Frontline
by BandOfFanfic
Summary: Joseph Liebgott/OC Begins as set in holland, what happens when Rita enters the unforgiving world of war. Who will be her rock? (sucky summary...sorry)
1. Chapter 1

Joseph Liebgott had returned to battalion CO with a bunch of German prisoners and a shrapnel wound at the base of his neck. Silly bastard hadn't even noticed until someone had pointed it out to him. I sat on my haunches and rested my elbows on his knees to stabilise myself. "Turn your head that way" I asked, gently pushing it to the right. I poured some of the pungent liquid onto a cotton pad and began to wipe his wound.  
"THE HELL ARE YOU CLEANING THAT WOUND WITH, ACID?!"  
"Goddamn it, Lieb, are you gonna sit _still_?"  
I not-so-gently tugged out the shrapnel, ignoring the many profanities hurled in my general direction. "Keep it to yourself buster, I'm only trying to help." I got this kind of treatment from most of the soldiers,but let it slide. Hey, you wouldn't be the cheeriest guy ever if you had half of a leg, would you? I sat back and stared at the wound, wondering if I should put a little sulpha on it, just in case. For someone who was such a scrawny little runt he must've been very strong metally to ignore that wound, it looked pretty painfull. As did all of the men, he reeked of stale sweat and cigarettes, mixed with the coppery smell of blood. He was caked in mud Although he could use a shave. And a shower...  
"Hey,lady, less starey, more cleany, I have places to be."  
"I'm gonna bandage you up, then you're free to go. And my name's Rita" I murmured, getting my bearing again, whilst checking over the cut one last time to make sure it was totally clear of any stray pieces of metal. "Pass us the aid bag?"  
Joe sighed and leaned across to retrieve my satchel.  
"So where the fuck are you from? Your accent is fucking crazy" he said. I smiled to myself slightly as I started to wrap the bandage around his neck. I had been expecting that one for a while, every conscious patient I had attended to had asked about my funny accent.  
"I'm from Scotland, originally"  
"Then what in god's name are you doing in Holland?"  
"I lived in Germany as a teen, and as soon as Hitler came to power my parents moved here. For the love of Christ, would you hold still!"  
"Jesus, sorry! So why did your parents choose-FUCKING OW- why did they choose Eindhoven?"  
"We had family here so we decided to -JOE!" I screamed as he sneezed, jerking forward and tearing the skin around his wound open. Again.  
"Fuck, you got blood all over my fucking shirt!"  
"If you don't die from this wound going sceptic first, I'm gonna kill you myself" I half shouted as his cut began to bleed heavily. "Sit still or I swear to god I'll send you back to the front line like this..."  
"Bite me." He said, lighting up a cigarette. I grinned and got out another cotton pad and unwound another bandage. I would take great pleasure in this...  
"What the fuck are you grinning about?"

"Joke's on you, asshole, this means I need to clean the wound again"


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't believe it."  
"Shut up"  
"You're a fucking war nurse"  
"Joseph Liebgott, I swear to God-"  
"And you handle bits of bodies and shit every day"  
"I'm serious, I-"  
"But you completely fuckin' lose it at a bit of puke?!"  
I sighed and put my head in my hands. A glass of water was pushed into my hands and I chugged it down somewhat gratefully, feeling the burning in my throat beginning to ebb. I would never learn to live down this shame... All I had to do was mop up some poor sod's sick, a soldier brought in by Joe and a couple of other paratroopers, but I ended up mopping up his and my own. I never could handle vomit, it was the sound of it hitting the floor and then the putrid _smell_.  
"I don't fuckin' believe it" Joe sniggered, slouching against the church wall beside me "You were sick at _sick_"  
I raised my head to glare at him. He continued laughing and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "Fuckin' _puke_". He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his bag and lit two, offering me one. I accepted, and stood up unsteadily to retrieve his dog tags which he had left the previous day, hence his unanticipated return.  
"I thought you didn't smoke"  
"Do you need anything else before you go?" I asked, ignoring his question and chucking the tags at him with a little more force than necessary. He shook his head, catching the chain as he stood and slung them back around his skinny neck, recoiling slightly at the cold metal.  
"Bugger off then, and take this to Gene, would you?" I smiled, handing him a package with a pair of scissors, a bunch of extra bandages, a few packs of smokes, sulpha packets and some extra morphine. I figured he'd need them considering the amount of men we had in with a bloody "M" marked upon their forehead and sulpha residue littering their uniforms, and I'd always had a soft spot for the gentle medic. Slipping them into his bag, he went to take a swig from his canteen and groaned as he discovered it was empty.  
"Actually, do you have anywhere I can fill my canteen? Some fucker keeps drinking from mine." He said, nodding pointedly at the glass I had just set down. I held out my hand for it and took it through to our 'kitchen' a small, dank area of the church with a miniscule rusty sink, Joe slouching in behind. He threw himself onto one of the warped chairs and I winced as the legs almost collapsed.  
"Don't make yourself comfortable, your canteen's almost full."  
"Aw come on Rita, give us ten minutes?" He asked batting his eyelashes at me  
"No."  
"But I've got a fuckin hole in my neck!"  
"Shift it, Liebgott, you also have a country to serve" Sighing heavily he held his out his arm. I rolled my eyes and took his proffered hand, hauling him to his feet. Winking, he bowed to me and started out the door, lifting his canteen on the way past

"You're a cruel woman Rita" He said, clutching his heart  
"Goodbye, Joe" I laughed, shooing him out of the church. He turned and waved and my heart beat a little faster at his grin. He jumped on a jeep and as he headed back to camp I'd realised the ass had left his helmet sitting on the kitchen table...


	3. Chapter 3

I sang softly to myself whilst I tied my hair away from my face, wrapping it into its usual bun. It was still fairly early, so most of the soldiers were still asleep in their makeshift cots, sleeping somewhat soundly for what must've been the first time since they landed in Normandy so I was careful not to wake any. Their injuries ranged from being shot in the shoulder to having whole body parts brought in on different stretchers, yet most of the men who could walk kept trying to escape the church to return to their companies. I still couldn't get over that, it was so noble but so stupid and I couldn't help but admire them. Still singing, I fox-trotted into the main atrium of the church to retrieve my medical bag. All of the pews had been pushed to walls to make room for makeshift cots and boxes of medical supplies. There were boots, helmets and weapons strewn around the men along with personal treasures that they had collected over the past few weeks from enemy soldiers. Rings, Lugers, a few Nazi flags and other seemingly valueless objects. Lifting Joe's helmet, I danced outside into the crisp morning air to see if I could find someone to return it to him. But, as expected, it was just me and the badly hidden pile of bodies beside the church. I shook my head and started towards the road all the jeeps drove along. There were three other nurses that could handle any problems while I was gone, if need be so I had plenty of time to find easy company. Just follow the tyre tracks. After about fifteen minutes of walking I spotted three men in uniform talking to each other. One was clearly superior to the other two, he stood with a back so straight it looked painful. The other two were considerably shorter. I'd barely gotten within 10 feet of them when the tall one whirled around and pointed this gun at me.  
"Don't shoot!" I held my hands up in surrender. "Can you tell me where to find Joseph Liebgott?" The men looked at each other, puzzled. I crossed my fingers in my head, hoping they didn't think I was some sort of enemy spy. Damn my accent!  
"What's he to you?" the shorter one asked, taking a long drag on his cigarette. I dangled Joe's helmet from my index finger.  
"He left his helmet at the aid station, I was going to return it to him"  
"Couldn't ya just have waited till more men came in?" he asked, taking off his own helmet to scratch at his head. "This isn't exactly the safest place for a dame right now." I rolled my eyes, and shook the helmet a little bit.  
"So...Joe?"  
"What's your name, lady?" The tall one asked, directing his glare down at me. Now, I am not a small woman, but he made me feel about two centimetres high. I wasn't going to be intimidated by this man...okay, on second thoughts maybe I was. But I wasn't going to show it!  
"Rita."  
"Where'd you come from Rita?"  
"The aid station up the road, I'm one of the nurses."  
"Don't they need you up at the aid station, Rita?"  
"There are three other nurses to cover me."  
The tall man thought for a minute then motioned for the shorter man.  
"Luz!" The man who scratched his head sauntered from the tree to stand beside his superior, flashing me a wink and a cheeky grin. For goodness sake...  
"Yessir?  
"Go find Liebgott and tell him to get his scrawny ass up here."  
"Yes, sir!" Luz jogged off to find Joe and I was left with the other two.  
"So what do I call you two?" I asked.  
"Ronald Spiers."  
"Well that was a riveting conversation..." I mumbled, beginning to shiver. This morning was a little too crisp for my liking. After another while of silence, Luz and Joe eventually returned. Joe held out his hand and I tossed the helmet to him. He grinned and I couldn't help but grin back, the cold forgotten.  
"How's the neck?" I asked, the smile unable to leave my face.  
"Fuckin freezin'" He replied, lighting up a cigarette. His brown eyes were lit with mirth as I handed him and Luz some of the chocolate from my bag. "So you came all this way just to see little ole me?"  
"I'm beginning to think you're leaving your stuff on purpose as an excuse to visit" I replied, laughing.  
"Yeah sure, I'd risk gettin' my fuckin' head blown off just to see your pretty face again"  
"I'm flattered." I turned to face Spiers and offered him some chocolate too. He accepted, but did not look happy about it.  
"What's the time, soldier?" he asked Joe.  
"Uh, oh-nine-hundred hours sir"  
"Oh shit.." I mumbled, checking my own watch for clarification. I left at seven... The nurses were gonna kill me when I got back. No, they were gonna kill me, bring me back to life and kill me again.

I turned to the two soldiers beside me.  
"I don't wanna be rude or anything but could I get a lift back?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: So before we begin I have a funny story to tell you. I was talking to my dad about something and somehow my fanfiction got brought up. Dad asked me "Is it one of those perverse Harry Potter fan stories?" and I said "No!" to which he replied "Are you f*****g mental, have you seen how much money E.L. James has made from 50 shades?! We could be rich!" **_

_**Right, a few things to say. Firstly, I was originally trying to make this story fit in with the episodes, as best as possible, but I don't think that has worked out too well so I'm going to take a little (lot) artistic license here and just manipulate the story to fit what's in my head. Secondly, I have been getting stuck for ideas for this story so if there are a few crap chapters, I apologise. I honestly don't know how to move these two characters together-but ill try my best! Thirdly this chapter is a little more serious, but I don't know... let me know if you like this or if you want funny again or both. Finally, updates are going to get a little more sporadic because its only 34 days till our Christmas holidays and our teachers are drowning us in homework and prelim study... but I shall try and update at least 4 times a week. Thank you so much for the reviews and stuff, they really do make my day! **_

[Joe's POV]

We'd been sitting in the jeep waiting for Spiers to return with Winters so that she could return to the aid station, just shooting the shit and teasing each other. Rita was some fucking character, there was no doubt about it; there was always some smart ass retort or a smart ass expression that women shouldn't wear-she reminded me of myself. She also rambled a lot, about two of her stories so far had a fucking point to them, the rest were bullshit to fill the silence.  
"The nurses are going to dismember me..." she sighed, tugging her hair out of its bun and letting it tumble to just above her waist, using her finger to work through the knots.  
"Luz did have a point, you know. You shoulda just waited for some poor bastard to come in and send my helmet back with them."  
"Well it's a bit late for that now, isn't it?!" she retorted, throwing me a filthy look and slapping my arm. I grinned back and lit up another cigarette, offering her one. She shook her head, choosing instead to rummage around in her medics bag and pull out an apple.  
"Do you actually carry any medical supplies in there or is it all fucking food?" I asked, snatching the bag and rifling through it, ignoring her muffled cries of protest. "Jesus Christ, woman, it_ is_ all food!"  
"If you look properly I have stuff in there other than food!"  
"Oh, my mistake" I replied, smirking "There's a canteen in here too."  
"You're an arsehole" Rita said, leaning her head back against the jeep and closing her eyes, her face and hair illuminated by the watery sunlight.  
"Can I have the chocolate?" I asked, opening the packet and taking a bite anyway.  
"Go right ahead" she murmured, slouching further into her seat. We sat side by side in companionable silence, eating her food and swigging from the canteen.  
"so why'd you want to be a war nurse?" I asked around a mouth full of chocolate. She stopped mid chew of her apple and smiled a little to herself.  
"My granddaddy was a medic in the first world war" she began, looking up at the grey sky as rain began to fall. "I remember him trying to get my brothers interested in medicine, but they didn't care. They were more interested in what girl they were gonna ask to the dance or the next prank they would play on their teachers. He refused to teach me anything until I was about six after I found a bird with a broken wing and brought it to him in a shoebox. A fucking shoebox that I'd lined with grass and moss and shit to make the bird more comfortable. So granddaddy began to teach me how to make splints and tourniquets out of scrap wood and old bits of clothes, how to stitch up and properly dress wounds and shit like that." It was beginning to rain pretty hard and her hair was dripping wet and tangled around her body. She was in her own world, seemingly unaffected by the rain drenching her clothes or the wind chilling her skin. I offered her my jacket, but she refused, continuing with her story.  
"I was studying to become a nurse in Germany when Hitler started this stupid war. Mother wanted me to go to Holland so that I'd be safer. I was only 18 at the time, old enough to look after myself, but she insisted. We never really agreed on much, she disapproved of granddaddy teaching me how to do a mans job; so as a final "fuck you" when I got to the station I didn't go to my designated house. I just walked and walked, sleeping rough for about a week until I met Bea, the head nurse at the church. She was more than willing to teach me how to save lives, they were low on nurses and full of the wounded. I think it was after I treated my first soldier that I knew I wanted to be a part of this, to help as much as I could. He had been shot in the chest by a kraut and he was freaking out, hyperventilating and all that. But for some reason as soon as I started to talk to him, he calmed right down. It was one of the weirdest and most gratifying experiences of my life and that just about sealed the deal for me, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that" I murmured. Once again we lapsed into silence, me wondering when we would be moving out, and she was lost in thought, absentmindedly playing with her fingers.  
"What's that noise?" she asked suddenly, as an ominous drone got louder and louder.  
"Shit, get the fuck outta the jeep! C'mon move, _MOVE_ we gotta find some fuckin cover!" As the first bomb hit I was pushing her out of the car, sliding around on the muddy ground looking for anything that could substitute as a foxhole. Rita was panicking, sliding around as if she was running on ice.  
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"came a voice from the side of the road. Flooded with relief I jumped down into the ditch next to Malarkey, but Rita slipped in the mud and landed on her stomach, covering her head with her arms as the next bomb dropped right where the jeep was. She screamed as a shard of artillery shell sliced through her dress and implanted itself in her thigh, trying to push herself back to her feet but not being able to find a solid surface to do so. Don reached out from the ditch and grabbed her arms, pulling her down into cover. She bit back a whimper as the artillery sunk further into her leg, tears slipping down her cheeks. Without thinking I threw an arm around her shoulder in some attempt at soothing her.  
"Where is the name of holy fuck is everyone else?!" I shouted  
"Back at the line, I was sent to get you two bastards to say you'd have to fuckin walk" he shouted back.  
The sky was lit up with explosions for the next ten minutes, trees collapsing around us, mud being flung into the air and the distant cries of "MEDIC!" filling my ears. Rita had buried her face into my shoulder and was clinging to my jacket, as if it was the only thing protecting her. All I could do was rub soothing circles on her arms and stare straight ahead, wondering when it was gonna be over.

We were moving out, what was fucking left of us anyway. The wounded had their own jeep, shared with Rita and 'Gene doing as much as they could before we arrived back at the aid station and the rest of us walked. Luckily, nobody's injury was particularly life threatening and had been pretty much treated already. Rita had decided not to mention the shrapnel in her thigh; these men were more important and she could deal with it later. As the line of jeeps came out of the forest we all froze.. I could only watch as Rita stepped out of the jeep and slowly walked towards what used to be her life, her home but was now a flaming heap of rubble and shattered glass, not one part of it left standing. She bent down to pick up a brick and turned it over and over in her hands. Without warning she threw it as hard as she could into the fire, doing the same with anything she could get her hands on that wasn't on fire, screaming as she did so. She tripped over her feet and fell to her knees, the broken glass lacerating her legs, and her head fell into her hands. Gene slowly walked towards her, the way you do when approaching a dog that might bite you. He put a hand on her shoulder and murmured something and she raised her head to stare at the wreckage, whispering a response pointing to her leg. Gene stood up and held out his hand and she took it. Rita limped back over to us, her face streaked with dirt and blood and threw a glare that was Liebgott worthy."  
"What're you assholes looking at?" she snapped, hobbling back to the jeep to get her legs cleaned up. "Honestly. You think I'd have two fucking heads"

**Another AN: Yeah, im still not too happy with this chapter, I feel as if it could've been written a lot better but I didn't quite know how. Anyway, let me know what you think and the next chapter will be a lot more light hearted. **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I don't have much to say about this chapter, apart from a)it's a little less serious b)its a bit shorter and c) its (hopefully) gonna bring Joe and Rita a little closer together. I'd like to say hello and thanks to ChastityHope13 who has left some lovely reviews and seeing them there cheer me up to no end. So...um...hello and thank you! Again, this chapter vaguely fits in with the episode of Bastogne but I'm very freely adapting it. **

[Rita's POV]

The ride to Bastogne was hell, to say the least. I was wedged in between about twenty men who chain smoked and farted like god know what, the cold was making my legs stiff and I couldn't stop shivering I could feel every bump and shake of the truck rattle through my bones and the men would not shut up teasing one of the replacements, Herbert Suerth Junior, who was sat beside me. I'd been issued with the same attire as the rest of the airborne -slightly too big and incredibly heavy, along with a woollen scarf, coat a pair of gloves and a replenished medical bag. I had a gun, but no idea how to fire it, I had grenades but no idea how to work them. I was dressed like a paratrooper, but if you made me jump out of a plane I'd either end up dead or with both of my legs broken: I felt like a little girl dressing up in her daddies clothing. My hair had been pulled back into two French braids and I'd made a mental note to cut it as soon as possible-it hung down to my waist and there was no way in hell that was gonna make my life easy.  
"Hey, Rita!" Skip shouted from the opposite end of the truck.  
"Oh for the love of god" I murmured to myself "What do you want, Muck?"  
"Ooooh, touchy touchy! I was only gonna ask if you had any food."  
"Bullshit, you were not"  
"Yeah you're right, I wasn't" he smirked "But come to think of it, do ya have any food?"  
I rummaged through my medic bag and pulled out two bars of chocolate, handing one to Herb and tossing the other to Muck.  
"Don't eat them all yourself, fatso, share it out!" I cried as he took a mammoth bite out of his.  
"Yeah yeah" he grumbled, grudgingly splitting what was left of the bar and passing it around the men.  
"Thank _you_." I murmured and cuddled further into my jacket trying desperately to keep out the freezing air. From the other end of the car Joe stood up and began kicking people out of his path, causing half of the men to hurl curses and insults in his general direction. When he arrived in front of me he simply glared at Herb until he moved to sit in the seat Joe had just vacated and smirking, he flung himself beside me and produced a packet of smokes, offering me one. I shook my head and he shrugged his shoulders, cupping his hand around the one in his mouth to prevent the wind blowing out the flame from his lighter.  
"Don't worry, soon you'll be smoking these fuckers like your life depends on it"  
"That was mean" I mumbled, nodding towards Junior. Joe rolled his eyes at me, leaning his head against the side of the truck and blowing smoke rings towards the roof. I was hyper aware of his thigh pressing against my leg and arm brushing mine. Oh for gods sake Rita, get a grip!  
"He'll get over it."  
"That's not the point, Lieb." I sighed, picking a stray hair off of his jacket. I winced as we went over yet another pothole and the force jarred my still healing legs. There had been 17 pieces of glass in my legs, along with a chunk of metal and a crap load of brick dust and although it ended in Eugene getting ridiculously annoyed at me, I managed to ignore my injuries for a good two hours, cleaning and slapping bandages on wounds, tweezing pieces of artillery out of legs, arms and butts and passing out chunks of chocolate. Not one of the men had brought up what had happened at the church, and I was incredibly grateful for that. I had no idea what I was supposed to do next or where to go, but God bless Lewis Nixon. He found me a spare uniform and scrounged a gun and as much medical supplies as possible.  
"You're a good nurse, Rita; you can run with Easy for a while. But if Sink sees you, you aren't with us alright? You followed us here from Holland" He winked, throwing the uniform to me "It's probably a couple of sizes too big, but it was the best we could do."  
"That's perfect, thanks Lewis."  
"Not a problem...just don't jump outta any planes, deal?"  
"Deal." I grinned and limped to find a quiet place to change...which was proving harder than I thought. Suddenly I had a brainwave and jumped into the back of a jeep, pulling the canvas across.  
I pulled my dress up over my head and quickly put hobbled into the uniform, silently begging that nobody would come in. Tucking my hair into my helmet I shuffled out of the truck and slipped in the mud nearly falling flat on my face, only to have Joe grab my arm to steady me.  
"Like the gear" He said, nodding at my new Bastogne-friendly (ha) uniform. I attempted a twirl , but once again tripped in my clumsy boots, and grabbed at Joe to steady myself only to bring him down on top of me.  
"Oww..." I mumbled, a dull ache becoming apparent on the back of my head. I opened my eyes, blinking my vision back to normal and the first sight I was greeted with was Joes face inches from my own. He was holding himself up by his forearms, brown eyes narrowed and face spattered with mud. I swallowed a little, he was incredibly close...and incredibly attractive. He smirked down at me and I wiped one of the mud smears off of his face with my thumb. He leaned down a little further, allowing some of his weight to rest on me.  
"My hair's getting muddy" I murmured, unable to take my eyes off his angular lips.  
"Yeah, it is..." he replied, smirk not leaving as he leaned his head towards me. I raised my head to meet his and-  
"JOE, ARE YOU BACK HERE?"  
"Aw shit" He hissed, scrambling to his feet and holding out his hand. I sighed a little, mentally berating myself, and grabbed his hand using it to help me to my feet.  
"Yeah, I'm back here George!" came his hurried response. He shooed me away and I complied, the mud drying in my hair and on the back of my uniform. What was I playing at? I was gonna be fighting with these men in less than two days, I couldn't afford to fraternise with them! But I couldn't _really _be blamed, his face was so close to mine, and there was something about his carefree arrogance that was just...appealing.

" Oh dear god, Rita pull yourself together..." I mumbled, so distracted that I jumped about a foot in the air when Lieutenant Dyke tapped me on the shoulder.  
"Nixon told me your current situation. We're moving out now, you're in jeep one."  
"Yessir." I mumbled, setting out for the truck.  
"Miss Howell!" He called, motioning for me to return. "How did you manage to filthy up your uniform within the hour?"  
"I fell sir."  
"Alright then. Dismissed."

**WOW another long chapter, another kinda rubbish chapter but oh well. I've finally forced these two into seeing they like eachother. Well forcing Rita to realise she likes Joe kinda sorta. Reviews are always welcome and thanks to everybody who's favorited, that makes my daY!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Woops... that four times a week update didn't work out to great...sorry about that! I don't know what the American equivalent to Highers are (I know the English version is GCSE) but essentially they're hella difficult and if you don't stay on top of it all, you're going to regret it. So, admittedly, most of my time has been spent at school, doing homework, at swimming or trying to up my grade and I apologise for the lack of updates. I'm kind of regretting not writing this in the third person but im doing okay with it so far. Anyways, here is another chapter, reviews and follows are always massively appreciated! Quick note, if you haven't read breaking point, don't read this chapter. Also, to anybody who celebrates thanksgiving, I hope you had a wonderful one! Thanks for reading **

[Rita's POV]

"My hands are killing me."  
"Keep digging, you're nearly there"  
"No she aint , you couldn't fit Popeye in there, never mind us."  
"Im try'na be motivational here Bill, and you aint helping!"  
I rolled my eyes, blistered hands slipping down the makeshift shovel with each forceful slam into the frozen ground. Joe toye and Bill Guarnere were bickering again over how well I was picking up their "Paratrooper 101" crash course. I'd already broken my nose with a recoil from my gun, to their great amusement and now I was attempting to dig a foxhole deep and wide enough for the three of us to fit into. I saw Joe crossing from one foxhole to another and grinned a little, using two fingers to whistle. He whipped his head around and almost smiled and I motioned for him to come over.  
"Enjoying yourself? He smirked, motioning towards the pathetic attempt at a foxhole.  
"They're slave drivers, I swear to God. None of you assholes had to dig one of these by yourself!" I said vehemently, cursing under my breath as yet another blister burst.  
"Stop laughing, this isn't funny!"  
"Oh it really is" Lieb responded, leaning back against a tree. "Come on, put some effort into it!" I glared at him and tried to storm off...straight into the foxhole I had just abandoned. A sharp pain shot straight from my foot up my leg and I tried to stand I up, only to fall straight back down again. This was, of course, hilarious to the three men, they just about keeled over laughing. I sighed, settling down into my half finished foxhole and waited for them to finish.  
"Hey, get the hell up, you have a foxhole to finish." Bill said, picking up my shovel and offering it to me.  
"I cant get up." I replied  
"Very funny, Rit. C'mon you're almost done."  
"No, shit-dick, I can't get up. I've hurt my foot."

"Im still not too pleased about you being here, Rita." Eugene murmured as he gently strapped up my now swollen ankle. "Don't take this the wrong way, but the front line is no place for a lady. We need your skill at aid stations, it cant go to waste with you dying out here."  
"What's that got to do with me being a lady?" I asked, trying not to flinch at the pressure on my foot.  
"Well, nothin' except the men."  
"They are all perfectly civil. Well apart from Cobb who would gladly put a bullet through my head if he wasn't so afraid of being shot himself, and Perconte who refuses to talk to me"

Eugene chuckled, shaking his head as he taped up the last of the support.  
"Cobb don't hate you Rita, he's jealous. And I don't know what Perconte's problem is." That made me stop, and look at him, disbelief written all over my face. Jealous?  
"What is there to be jealous of? My ability to sew up wounds?"  
"He's jealous of Joe; everyone can see how sweet he is on you." I felt the colour rush to my face, and I shook my head.  
" Don't even try it." He laughed as I opened my mouth to protest. "And some of us can see how sweet you are on him. Cobb is one of the few." I just rolled my eyes and began to pick at the dirt encrusting my nails.  
"They're both assholes, just in different ways."  
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Now, get the hell outta here, I got things to do."  
"Like woo Renee?"  
"That is none of your business."  
I grinned and hobbled out of the aid station.  
"Dont worry, your secret's safe with me!" I called over my shoulder, snickering at his response.  
"Joe's a bad influence on you..."

I was jerked awake by the ground shuddering beneath me. I threw back the canvas of our foxhole allowing the cold air to flood in.  
"What was that?" I asked Lipton as he ran past, hunched over, gun in hand.  
"Just stay in your foxhole. _STAY IN YOUR FOXHOLE!" _he hissed. I threw myself back into my foxhole, and looked at Joe and George beside me in fear. I couldn't stop the scream that flew out of my mouth as the tirade of bombs began to fall, sending massive chunks of dirt and trees everywhere, the sky lighting up with blinding flashes of light.  
"MEDIC!" I heard someone cry. "WHERE IS THE GODDAMNED MEDIC?!" I tried to jump out of the foxhole, only to be hauled back in by Bull.  
"FUCKING LET ME GO, THEY NEED ME!" I screamed, trying to kick him off, but he was too strong.  
"They have Eugene, you go out there and you'll be killed!" He shouted in response  
"I DONT CARE, GODDAMNIT, I'M HERE AS A NURSE AND GOD HELP ME IM GOING TO DO MY FUCKING JOB" I was crying now, hard, and fighting to get out of that foxhole like my life depended on it. I sunk my teeth into Bull's arm and he let go, cursing me and I jumped out of that foxhole like a bat out of hell, joe trying to grab my foot and pull me back in and failing. I raced to the source of the cry , narrowly avoiding exploding trees and skidding on the icy ground. "  
"Come on, where the fuck are you?!" I hissed. Suddenly, it was all quiet. I froze on the spot as muffled cried came from just behind the trees. Shit. I listened a little harder and my insides turned to ice as I heard Joe Toye calling for help. I ran through the trees, jumping over fallen branches and stumbling over roots, only to arrive the same time as Bill. And the second round of bombs. I nearly threw up at the sight of joe, both of his legs had been blown straight off, blood smears leading up to where he was now, suggesting he'd dragged himself to his current position. He was stretching to try and reach his helmet as if his life depended on it.  
"C'mon Joe, we're gonna get you fixed up, okay?"Bill said, wrapping Joe's arms around his neck and grabbing his forearms, dragging him backwards towards their foxhole.  
"I gotta get my helmet!"  
"Leave it!"

It was as if the next few minutes happened in slow motion. I could only stand and watch in stunned horror. Buck screamed at them to hurry from his foxhole, and the bombs just kept coming closer and closer. With a jolt I realised that the next bomb was going to hit us. I stood backwards a few times, stumbling as my legs turned to jelly and forced myself to move away. Please god let them get through this, I prayed. Please just let them get through, they've been through enough! I was blown off my feet as what would be the last bomb hit, blood trickling from the large gash created on my temple from the tree that I collided with. I forced myself to my feet to check on the two soldiers and what I saw just about tore my heart in two. Buck Compton, one of Easy companies best leaders and rocks stood in front of his two best friends, stammering over the one word that I never wanted to hear for the rest of my life.

"_MEDIC!"_


	7. Chapter 7

**So this chapter was originaly going to be chapter 6 but I thought that Rita needed a little more character development... So I'm just using it as a seventh. And Im glad I did, I have more to base this chapter on. On another plus side, that's two chapters in one day...possibly making up for my lack of updates in the past week. Thank you again for reading!**

[Joe's POV]

Rita was beginning to worry me. Her expression hadn't changed since she come back from the aid station two hours earlier, looking a little lost without her usual possy. She'd clambered down ito a foxhole and stared at the dark pools of blood where Bill and Joe had been not an hour ago. They had been like brothers to her, taking her under their wing and showing her how to load and unload her gun, how to handle grenades, how to dig foxholes; all the basics that we'd learned years ago. She'd done it all with no complaints, not even when her hands were covered in blisters, not even when the gun recoiled and broke her nose and not even when she sprained her ankle falling into her freshly dug foxhole. Accident prone didn't cover Rita in the slightest, anything that she could injure herself on she would injure herself on. She'd handled anything that'd been thrown at her really fucking well, dodging explosions and falling trees to get to wounded men when Eugene couldn't, handing most of her depleting supply of chocolate around the men whenever they complained about the shitty food and gave her spare socks to some of the replacements. She always had a witty retort to throw at any wisecracks made towards her, and her green eyes always shone with mirth. You never saw her anywhere without Toye or Guarnere, they were either shooting the shit or arguing over stupid little things that didn't really matter, and to an outsider looking in, it was as if they were siblings. When Joe had left after he'd been pinged in the arm, Rita and Bill had looked a little lopsided without him, and when he returned, he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug from Rita and a severe warning never to worry her like that again.

Oh Rita...

She didn't cry. When she returned, her once glowing eyes were dull, and the exhaustion of the past few weeks was beginning to show; her shoulders slumped and her stare blank, nails scraping at her skin, tearing bits of flesh and smearing the small rivulets of blood that ran down her hands, a shivering figure with a shoddy uniform and a bloodstained bandage covering most of the right side of her face. This was different to the church. Here, she'd seen her two best friends have their legs blown off, one had been blown up twice in less than five minutes for fucks sake, and had been unable to do shit to help them. I walked over and slid into the foxhole and settled beside her, but she didn't seem to notice; her gaze never leaving those puddles of blood, hand never ceasing in their scratching. She was really beginning to worry me.  
"Rita. _Rita." _ I put my hand on her shoulder and she jumped about a foot in the air. Turning to look at me I reached out and gently held her hands, trying to avoid the deep scratches. They were like ice.  
"Hey, Joe. Can I help you with anything?" She asked, her voice raspy and mechanical. I shook my head, eyes pricking with tears that I wasn't going to shed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her head rested against my chest, the rest of her pulled as close as possible in a futile attempt to warm her up, fingers running through the tangles in her hair. I don't know how long we sat like this, but people came and went, someone brought us food that Rita didn't eat, Bull came to see how she was doing and Eugene came by to bandage up her hands. She began to shudder slightly in my arms and it suddenly hit me that she may be crying.  
"Rita?" I asked cautiously after a while, getting a croaky "hm?" as a response.  
"What... what's wrong?" I asked, inwardly cringing at the blaringly obvious question. I felt her snort a little through her tears.  
"Well I know what's wrong, but is there any way I can help? Stop _laughing_ I'm trying to be nice!"  
But that was her off, once she started she couldn't stop and it was infectious.  
"Sorry," She sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve "it's just so fucking stupid. Where are the people who started this whole fucking war, huh? Why aren't they out here in the freezing fucking cold, watching all their friends die whilst we're in their cosy, _safe_ buildings, sending them to their deaths? I never want to hear anybody ask for a medic ever again. I'd rather shoot myself." She spat, all of the laughter gone from her voice. I nodded, lighting up a cigarette and offering her one. She shook her head and began attempting to pick at her hands through the swathes of bandages.  
"Hey, don't do that" I murmured and she sighed, head falling back against the edge of the foxhole.  
"I never want to hear someone cry medic ever again." She repeated, eyes closing and tears slipping down her face. I pulled the canvas back across the foxhole in an attempt to keep some of the heat in and slouched down into a somewhat comfier position, and Rita's head once again lolled onto my shoulder.  
"Tell me about America." She asked in a small voice. I jumped a little, I thought she'd fallen asleep.  
"What do you want to know?"  
"Anything. What's your favourite holiday?" I smiled a little, her accent got heavier the more tired she got and she may as well have been speaking in German- that's just how heavy it was.  
We began to discuss all the different holidays and the different traditions in America and Germany.  
"I'll take you sometime." I suddenly blurted out, instantly regretting I'd said anything.  
"What?" She asked, turning to look at me.  
"America."  
"What about it?"  
"I'll take you sometime, if we get out of this alive." There was a long silence and I inwardly prayed that I hadn't just made everything eternally awkward and uncomfortable.  
"I'd like that" she smiled eventually, and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. I almost smiled back and closed my eyes, the exhaustion of the day finally taking over.

**Annddd we're done! I have a great idea for the next chapter, but it's skipping completely over episode 8... oh well. But yeah, I may be gone a while but there will hopefully be an amazing chapter to make up for it! Thanks again for reading *Waves***


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So, before we begin I feel like I need to say what's going on with this story. Thanks to a very polite review from a guest with a fantastic suggestion for a part of this chapter I decided that I needed to sit myself down and actually plan this story out. So, on the train home I pulled out a pad of paper and wrote about 3 pages worth of mind maps and I've decided that's what I'm going to do for every chapter. Hopefully that will up the quality and then if I ever get writers block I have lots of things to inspire me to write. Because there is always plenty of room for improvement I would love it if you commented with any suggestions for the next chapter or how to improve on something that's been niggling you. This is just a sort of filler chapter until I plan out my next one properly, so I hope you enjoy!  
Please review and thank you once again for reading. And now I shall get on with the story!**

[Rita's POV]

The sky was grey. There was no other way to describe it; no breath-taking blues with an orange gash slashed through it, no fluffy pink skies with blood red tinting the clouds, no night sky so clear that you felt as if the entire universe was laid out just for you, millions of stars scattered here and there, so bright it was as if there was holes in the floor of heaven. The sky was grey. Just grey. The snow was finally melting, the mud and slush that it created clung to our boots as we trudged to the jeep. I'd have honestly given anything to spend another night in that convent. That warm, safe convent with the choir singing countless hymns in their angelic voices, where the nuns brought us what little food they had to spare and lit all their candles, enveloping the weary soldiers in their warm glow. It was the first time we'd slept indoors in a month. It was heaven. I found myself walking away from the men scattered throughout the pews and as I looked over my shoulder at them, it was as if I was looking at ninety year old men instead of men in their youth, some barely twenty. Helmets were strewn all over the place, feet kicked up and the men's faces all held the same weariness- a look they tried their hardest to cover in battle but here, in this haven, they had let themselves indulge. Eyes were glazed over, stares blank. I noticed that many of the men's gazes were lost in the candles and I couldn't help but wonder what these men did to deserve this. This is what they wouldn't show to the Americans, what they _couldn't _show to the Americans. They needed to see the stereotypical image of a soldier: a young, handsome man, who is spotless in appearance and proud to be fighting for his country. These soldiers couldn't give two fucks about their country anymore. These were old, weary men walking further into the arms of death with every step they took. I slowly drifted to a corner of the convent, hoping that everybody was too occupied with their own thoughts to notice me. I sat as far from the men as possible, pulling a pad of paper and an almost blunt pencil out of my aid bag and began to sketch the scene in front of me, pulling my knees up to my chest to use them as a makeshift table. As I drew what was left of our company in that convent, I thought of Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere, men who were betting on who'd get back to the states first, but didn't actually expect to be sent back. I thought of Buck Compton and Donald Malarkey, two men who had lost two of their best friends in less than two days. I thought of all of the men we'd lost in Bastogne and I prayed that we'd come out of our next battle with most of our company in one piece. I stayed that way for a good half an hour, until my knees began to ache and throb and until my fingers were black from shading. The cuts on my legs had finally begun to heal, the wound in my thigh still tender, but almost scarred over completely. It had been a long month, one of the longest in my life, and a huge learning curve for me. I hadn't been with this company for very long, yet I knew each one of them by the hunch of their shoulders and the weight of their footfalls. I was not a paratrooper, but somehow, I felt like a part of Easy. My gaze drifted to Joe. Like the other men, he was looking in the general direction of the choir, but his eyes were unfocused and full of regret. It wasn't difficult to imagine what he was thinking about. Deciding to leave him be, I moved a little further down the pew so that I could lie down with my eyes closed. It was incredibly uncomfortable, yet I was so far past exhausted at this point I could've slept almost anywhere. Almost anywhere.  
XXX

When I re-opened my eyes, the church was silent. The choir and nuns had disappeared and the men were all asleep, some sprawled over an entire pew, using their jackets and scarves as bedding, others lay resting their heads on each other's shoulders and some had fallen asleep sitting upright, head lolled to one side. Most of the candles had almost burned out, casting a dim glow over the convent and for the first time in a month, I felt safe. I wandered over to the candles and kneeled on the hard stone floor in front of them. I was never particularly religious, we went to church every Sunday but I had never really prayed before.  
"_Well, there's a first time for everything." _I thought, remembering a prayer that my mother used to make me say before bed every night. I closed my eyes and bowed my head, basking for a moment in the warmth from the candles before I began  
"Almighty God, help me to understand that peace does not come in rebellion or grieving, but is obtained through the calm of the soul. Grant that if I may be perplexed or worried to-day, I may have the power to control myself and wait in thy strength. Amen"

"I'd never have pinned you as the religious type, Howell." Came a gravelly voice from beside me. I jumped about a mile in the air as Lieutenant Ronald Speirs carefully sat himself behind me, back against the wall. "Cigarette?"  
"No thank you, sir, I don't smoke." I replied, pushing myself backwards off of my knees to sit next to him. He shrugged and lit himself one, taking a deep drag.  
"Can I help you with anything Lieutenant?" I asked after a long silence.  
"You can call me Ron. And I was only gonna give you your drawing book back. You're quite the artist." I flushed a little, taking my book from his hands.  
"Thank you, sir. I hadn't realised I'd left it out."  
"I told you Howell, call me Ron. I have no command over you here."  
"Rita, please. And it's contagious, I can't help it." I laughed quietly, careful not to wake the other men. I pulled my canteen out of my bag and took a long swig. We sat in companionable silence for another little while, watching the first few candles extinguish themselves  
"I heard that we're going to Hagenau." I murmured. Ron shook his head a little- not in denial but almost in regret. Like the other men he was battle-weary and coated in a thick layer of dirt, bags etched under his eyes and unshaven, eyebrows knitted together.  
"Hitler launched a counter offence in Alsace. We're needed to hold the line." I glanced back over at the troops to see if any of them heard. This was the last thing any of them, especially Malarkey, would want to hear. They thought they were safe.  
"When are you gonna break it to them?"  
"First thing. They're not gonna like it, but it's not their job to." He responded, grabbing his helmet and standing up. "You're gonna want to get some sleep Howe-Rita, it's gonna be a long ride."  
"Si-Ron? Can I ask you a question?" I asked cautiously. He smiled a little, understanding already dawning in his eyes.  
"You want to know if the rumours are true." He stated.  
"I don't believe them, but my curiosity is getting the best of me, I hope you don't think me rude, but a lot of the men fear you. But they also respect the hell out of you. I was just wondering if I'd missed something."  
"I do things that need to be done and think later. The men respect that, I suppose." He smirked down at me and nodded to the notebook. "I particularly like the picture of Nixon asleep with him mouth open. You've captured his gormlessness perfectly."  
"Thank you, Ron." I laughed, "Good night" I smiled to myself pulling my jacket off and wrapping it around myself. I remeererd Speirs Running straight through a mortar explosion. I remembered him running across the enemy line of fire to meet I company, and then returning back to Easy. It wasn't difficult to see why the other men respected him, he was brave enough, and stupid enough to be an excellent soldier, but I couldn't see him offering cigarettes to 20 odd men then shooting them down... but who knows. Maybe he did. I sighed a little, curling into a smaller ball to retain some body heat and watched the last few candles die out. I was wide awake. It was going to be a long night ...

XXX

I hadn't slept since my chat with Lieutenant Speirs. I was wide awake and desperate for someone to babble to, I didn't want to talk to myself aloud for obvious reasons. I tiptoed through the men until I found where Joe was dozing, head on arms and mouth wide open, a small trail of dribble running down his chin. He looked so peaceful that I almost didn't want to wake him up. But I did anyways.  
"Joe. _JOE _, wake up!" I whispered, shaking his arm. He grumbled a little and buried his face into his arms.   
"Joe, cmon!" I whinged, shaking him twice as hard.  
"Rita, go the fuck back to sleep..." He murmured, voice thick with sleep and annoyance.  
"I _cant! _Come on, please! I'll give you my last packet of smokes."  
"You're a bitch, you know that?" I grinned and flung myself beside him on the pew, unable to keep the grin from my face. I rifled through my bag for the smokes and grabbed the rectangular package, along with a bar of chocolate Eugene had given me a while back. I stuck my tongue out at him and he glared in response, scrubbing a hand across his eyes to wipe the sleep from them and stretching out his limbs, groaning as the bones cracked. He held his hand out and I passed a chunk of chocolate.  
"I wanted the cigarettes, Rit."  
"Talk first, smokes later. You stink the place up with your cigarettes."  
"I'm gonna quote you on that. You wanted to talk, so talk. I woke up for this and it had better be good..." He grumbled  
"Aww you got up just for me? I feel so special!" I simpered, fluttering my eyelashes at him. He rolled his eyes and gave me a small shove, snatching my aid bag and rifling through it.  
"Don't let it get to your head... Can I _please_ have the smokes?" I held the packet out to him and he all but snatched it from my hand, lighting one immediately and took a massive drag. This seemed to relax him, and he lolled his head back as he blew out the smoke. I couldn't help but stare a little at the long column of his neck. His wound was now a thick scar, still very fragile but healing remarkably fast. He looked back down at me, eyes no longer dull with sleep.  
"So you wanted to talk, but you haven't fucking said anything worth noting yet. Im beginning to think you're getting withdrawal symptoms from the lack of my intriguing and invigorating conversations."  
"Joe, eighty percent of what you say to me is swear words, that's not exactly invigorating."  
"Shutup."  
"You're proving my point here Joe."

I began to shiver a little. Even although the worst of the winter had passed, the nights still had a bit of bite to them, and boy, was I feeling that bite. Joe looked down at me and rolled his eyes once again, lifting his arm for me to cuddle into his side.  
"Shut up, im cold."  
"You are also an incredible fucking annoyance" he sighed, re-arranging himself so that he sat in a more comfortable position.  
"You love me really." I laughed, taking a hold of the hand that wasn't draped over my shoulder, feeling rather pleased with myself when he didn't snatch it back. I hadn't felt so comfortable in months, head on Joe's chest and his arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding hands. We stayed like that until more of the men began to wake up, one of us taking small snatches of sleep then being awoken by the others movement and to be honest, I couldn't have thought of a better way to spend the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**I am literally running on caffeine, toast and the Christmas spirit just now. I am repulsively ill (an unpleasant mix of sinusitis, an ear infection and the flu) BUT BUT BUT, NINE days to go till the holidays! I AM SO EXCITED! AAAHHH OH MY GOSH! Okay, now that that's out of my system, a few notes about the story: I'm hoping to finish in less than 15 chapters, that way I don't feel the need to drag it on and on and on. But if I don't, I wont grudge myself another few. Im sorry again for the massive delay in an update, I really am. I don't really have an excuse, I've been in the house all week, but I think the story would have been a lot shoddier if I'd written it earlier. But hopefully once the holidays have come around I'll e able to write a few more chapters. Um... I don't have a lot more to say, thank you so much for reading, and pretty please leave a review, they really make my day! Thank you! **

[Rita's POV]

I'd made a new friend. He was a pleasant, clean shaven and well educated young man, just back from the hospital, yet none of the men seemed to be willing to say more than three words to David Keaton Webster. He reminded me of a puppy, incredibly excited to see all of his old friends, yet as each of them grew less and less patient with his cheeriness, his face fell further and further. I glared at Joe as Webster hauled himself into the truck after nobody helping him. Joe caught my eye and his expression instantly turned into that of a petulant child, shrugging his shoulders as Webster settled himself down. I pulled myself onto the jeep beside him and smiled at him, holding out my hand. He took it, almost in relief and morphed back into excited puppy mode, only a little warier. I'd automatically assumed he was a replacement, he had the same eagerness about him.  
"I've not seen you around before, are they enlisting women into the army now?" he teased, shaking my hand. I couldn't help but grin back, his cheeriness was so contagious.  
"I haven't seen you around before either, soldier. I'm Rita, they picked me up in Holland after... after something happened. I'm a back up medic, I suppose."  
"Im David. But everybody calls me Webster. Well, they used to." After seeing my puzzled look, he smiled sadly and nudged his leg. "I got shot in Holland. They're pissy because I didn't bust out of hospital, like Popeye. Especially Joe..."  
"Nice to meet you, Webster." I replied, pulling one of my last bars of chocolate out of my bag and handing it to him.  
"Hey Rita, where's my chocolate?" Joe shouted indignantly from his end of the truck.  
"You're the reason I only have three left, bugger off!" I shouted back. "Plus, you're being a twat" I added at the end, in a voice that only Webster could hear. He snorted, and as I looked over at Joe I was rewarded with a slightly wounded, Liebgott stare. I started to feel a little mean, but then remembered how he had treated Webster not ten minutes ago. He had been incredibly cruel to his former brother in battle, talking to him as if he had intentionally gotten shot and refusing to return as soon as he could to get out of fighting. I knew that many men would run away from the hospital (Well, many tried to), I'd experienced that first hand, but I couldn't understand the men's aversion to him. Yes, he'd missed Bastogne, but I'd missed d-day and Holland and was more accepted by the men than he was. I stuck my tongue out at Joe and turned again to make conversation with Web. The worst of the cold was over, raising the men's mood slightly but the air still had a certain bite to it, and the drizzling rain was slowly chilling me to the bone. There was rumours that there was hot showers where we were going, and real beds. Hot showers. Real beds. What did they matter to me anymore? I hadn't even seen my reflection since I left Holland. I sighed a little and pulled a book out of my bag. I'd read it about sixteen times since I'd joined the company and it had been passed around the men, although few had showed any interest in it, yet Webster leaned over to peek at the cover.  
"Are you reading Hamlet?" he asked incredulously, taking the book from me.  
"Aw, Web, you lost my place! I am, yes, for the twelfth time since I got here. The only other book on offer was some horrific drivel about a poor damsel in distress and I wasn't about to torment myself with that." I replied, snatching the book back and trying to re-find my place. I folded the corner of the page down and closed it over, sitting it beside me. "Have you read much Shakespeare?"  
"I studied some of his work at college" he smiled "He's one of my favourite authors. Im not gonna lie, I didn't expect you to be reading something like that. I' d have pinned you as a 'horrific drivel' kind of girl" I grinned back, he was finally starting to relax again. We chatted about the play for at least an hour, arguing over whether hamlet was faking his madness and randomly reciting the famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy, dramatic arm flailing and heart clutching all inclusive. It was the most fun I'd had in a long while, and I found myself uncaring of the weary, sometimes disgusted looks thrown our way. Most of the disgusted looks were from Joe, unsurprisingly. Eventually, after Webster had flawlessly recited Macbeth's Soliloquy before murdering King Duncan, Joe stood up and made his way over to where we were sitting and stood before us, swaying slightly with the movement of the jeep.  
"Hello, Joe" I smiled, looking up at him, but his gaze was directed down at Webster. I say gaze. Poisonous glare would be more accurate. Webster reacted exactly as both Joe and I expected him to, I'd seen this trick pulled before what seemed a lifetime ago. Web stood, with an awkward handshake and an equally awkward 'it was nice talkin' to you', and stumbled over to Joe's recently vacated seat. With his trademark self-satisfied smirk, Joe threw himself next to me. I re-opened Hamlet and pretended to start reading it again, pointedly ignoring the soldier next to me.  
"Aw c'mon Rit, don't be that way!" He half-laughed, shaking my arm a little. I turned the page, mouthing the words as if I had never heard Joe speak.  
"Rita, why wont you talk to me? You cant be serious!"  
I read on.  
I'd gotten about three parts into act two, blocking out his petulant whining and bitching, whimpers and curses . His pleads for attention became more and more aggravating until I was almost ripping each page out as I turned them. I could hear some of the men laughing and silently cursed them.  
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Joe snarled after a while, snatching the book from between my hands and throwing it up the opposite end of the truck. "Just listen to me, willya?!"  
"If you ripped that book, you'll wake up one morning without any nuts, I swear to God." I hissed back.  
"Its just a fuckin' book!" He exclaimed, pulling my arm around so I had to face him. I leaned forwards until our noses were almost touching and I seethed "Joe, I am not in the mood for any of your bullshit, okay? Either sit there and shut up, or go back to your old seat and send Webster back over." At this, his eyes hardened and his mouth tightened into a straight line. He folded his arms tightly over his chest and sulked and I called up the truck to George.  
"Hey Luz how about you send my book back over, huh?"  
"It'll cost you a chocolate bar!" he shouted back cheekily, winking as he retrieved said book.  
"Half!"  
"Deal!" Laughing, I tossed the bar as George threw the book, only just catching it with the tips of my fingers. Joe hadn't moved a muscle and I couldn't help but laugh at his angry expression. Why did I struggle to stay mad at him?  
"What're you laughing at?" he scowled as I tried to hold in my giggles.  
"How old are you, two? Temper tantrums don't get you anywhere, didn't your mother ever teach you that?" I laughed, passing him the remaining half of the chocolate. He tried to glare as he took it, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, turning up into an almost-smile. I suddenly remembered why I was supposed to be pissed off, and caught the gaze of an incredibly hurt looking David Keaton Webster. I nudged Joe's leg with my own and nodded towards Web.  
"Why is everybody so mean to him?" I inquired, pinching a small square of chocolate "He's so kind. Christ, people are kinder to Cobb than to him, and Cobb's a little shit."  
Joe snorted around his mouthful of chocolate.  
"He got shot in Holland."  
"Yes, so?"  
"That was three fuckin' months ago, Rita. Three. He was shot in the leg. Joe Toye got shot in the arm and he went AWOL after three _days_ just to come back, You saw them with your own eyes, Rita. How many men tried to escape to re-join their company before it moved on? Christ, you saw me when you were stitching up my neck, I was itching to go! Literally, those stitches were fuckin' horrible."  
" Then you kept leaving all your shit at the station. It's your fault I'm here now, asshole."  
"Hey, it's my fault you weren't crushed to death"  
"I was using 'asshole' as a compliment."  
Joe began to laugh and rested his head against the back of the truck, offering me a cigarette. I shook my head and he wagged his finger at me.  
"One of these days, Rita, you'll be-"  
" 'Smokin' these fuckers like my life depends on it' I know, I know" I laughed, opening my book for the third time and settling down to read.  
"I still don't like the way you treat him though." I murmured a little while later, nudging Joe's arm a little. He sighed heavily, and stubbed out his cigarette.  
"Fine, fine, I'll try and play nice." I grinned and ruffled his hair, narrowly avoiding a punch to the arm.  
"Attaboy, Joe."  
"You're a bitch."  
"You'd better be using that as a term of endearment."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Bonjour, my lovelies! I hope we are all fine and dandy. It has finally started snowing here in Scotland and to be honest I could not be happier. Well, if I wasn't plague ridden, I may be a fraction more enthusiastic, but im hyper on the inside, I promise! I haven't done a Joe's point of view for a few chapters but he's being a bit of a twat so he doesn't get one until he starts behaving himself. Okay, I shall get on with the story, and if I remember anything to say halfway through I'll pop a note at the end. Over and out! **

**[Rita's POV] **

I stared at my reflection, not quite believing what I was seeing. I scanned the mirror, looking for something that would prove that I was looking at me. My once long and wild dirty blonde hair was singed and greasy, matted with a months worth of dirt and blood, the curls limp and clumpy. My face was sallow, cheekbones that I never used to have stuck out a mile and my lips were dry and chapped. My eyes seemed too large for my face, surrounded by dark circles, as if I'd been in a bar fight. There was a scar running from my hairline to my nose on the right side of my face and my nose, that was once straight, veered slightly to the left at the bridge. I was waiting for the men to finish showering so that I could go in peace, and it was amazing seeing what a shower, hot meal and a fresh uniform could do to someone. I didn't see Joe sneak in to the room until there was a small, wooden brush and a pair of scissors being dangled in front of my eyes.  
"Oh my god, the illusion is shattered! I was convinced you were just naturally dirt coloured" I laughed, attempting to brush out my hair. He smirked, scrubbing a hand through his shaggy hair.  
"Call it camouflage. The showers are almost free I think, there's just a couple of men from Dog company left"  
"Excel- oh Jesus Christ." I exclaimed, pulling the brush out of my hair for the fourth time. The bristles kept getting tangled in the burned ends.  
"Joe, have you ever cut someone's hair before? No, I don't care if you have or not. Could you cut my hair?"  
"My dad was a barber, so I have _some_ experience. I take it you just want the burned bits cut off?" He smirked, pulling over a chair in front of the window for me to sit on and pulling the rats tails over the back.  
"I have a chocolate bar left that we could share, once you're done I mean. I would offer you cigarettes but I gave my last pack to you already."  
"That's great, now shut the fuck up while I focus."  
"Charming" I murmured as I watched him slice into my hair. It was strangely relaxing, listening to the crunch of hairs being ground through the scissors, and as I saw Joe's reflection in the window I had to suppress giggles. His mouth was open and his tongue was sticking out, occasionally travelling across his upper lip as he paused. After about fifteen minutes he took the brush and gently began to work his way through the knots and tangles, only occasionally tugging. He tapped me on the shoulder and nodded towards the mirror. I couldn't stop the grin creeping across my face as I took in the near miracle he had performed on my hair. It was still greasy and lank, but it almost looked as good as new, curling at the ends just below my elbows.  
"Is that ok?"  
"It's amazing!" I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck in a massive bear hug. To my surprise he laughed too and returned the gesture, engulfing me in a hug smelling of soap and shaving cream. Soap...  
"THE SHOWERS ARE FREE!" I shouted, breaking free from the hug and bolting out of the door, grabbing my towel on the way out, sliding down the hall straight into a squeaky clean Bull Randleman.  
"Where's the fire, Miss Howell?" he called after me, rubbing his chest where I'd collided with him.  
"SHOWERS ARE FREE! And I told you, call me Rita!"

XXXXXXX

I had spent at least an hour under that stream of water. About fifteen minutes of that hour was spent washing my hair and scrubbing dirt out of crevices I barely knew existed, trying to clean the muck out from underneath my nails and from inside my ears. The rest of that hour was dedicated to simply standing there and thinking about my current situation. Here I was in Hagenau, god knows how many miles from home, with next to no military training...unless you counted Bill and Joe trying to teach me to fire a small handgun, which I don't. I had never fired a weapon or thrown a grenade, and it seemed my main purpose here was to dole out chocolate or strap up sprained ankles and knees. Yet, I felt as if I had grown up with these men, they were almost brothers to me and I felt an incredible urge to protect them. Yes, this was utterly ridiculous: most of them were older than me, more experienced than me and they had all survived without me, but I couldn't explain the sense of protectiveness. And this feeling was mutual; they went out of their way to make sure I wasn't in danger whenever they could. We were a family. I even felt somewhat protective of Perconte and Cobb, and that was saying something. But then there was Joe... Joe with his short temper and snarky comments and pure hatred of anything German. Joe who would have gladly machine gunned about twenty prisoners simply for being krauts. Then there was the Joe that only rarely made an appearance: the haircutting, foxhole comforting Joe, who missed out on an extra four hours of sleep just to shoot the shit with me. The Joe who had gotten shot in the neck yet his priority was carrying his friend back for medical help. He wasn't anything like an older brother. I thought back to our almost kiss before we arrived in Bastogne and sighed a little. So close, yet so far... I turned off the water supply and wrapped the towel around myself, looking for my new uniform.  
Oh. My new, uniform that was still sat folded neatly on a chair inside. Damn damn damn damn!  
"Hello?" I cautiously called from the showers, gripping my towel tightly. "Hello? Is there anybody out there?" I waited for a response for about 5 minutes and then peeked my head out. It was totally deserted.  
"Oh shitty fuckiting shittedy_ SHIT_!" I screamed, kicking the wall in frustration.  
"Howell?!"  
"Nixon, thank fuck, just the man I need!" I grinned in , laughing aloud with relief.  
"Could you do me a massive favour and lift me a uniform or something? I forgot to lift mine on the way down..." the corners of his lips twitched up into a smile and he shook his head/  
"Only you, Howell, only you... Stay here, ill be two minutes."  
"Thanks Lew!" I called after him, laughing at his bemused expression.  
"Crazy dame..."  
"I heard that!"

XXXXXX

Joe snorted as he lay back on his bed. The abandoned house that we were using for shelter was near perfection, a close second to the convent. It was warm, it had real beds and bedding, someone always had coffee to share and we were almost always kept busy with something; be it organising rations or even just making beds. I had spent all day alone in a cluttered room, replenishing medical bags and writing letters, desperate for any sort of company. Now, it was half past six, and I was sitting on a bunk bed nibbling on an American candy bar watching the men prepare for a patrol across the river into enemy territory. I looked over at our new junior officer, Lieutenant Henry Jones, whose face was set with a fierce determination as he sooted his gun. The poor guy was somewhat a joke between most of the other men; he had graduated on D-Day and had no battle experience whatsoever. He was eager to please, yet always seemed to do something wrong and you could tell that that got to him. I ambled over and sat down beside him, offering a chunk of chocolate. He shook his head and continued running the flame from his lighter over the barrel.  
"I think what you're doing is very brave." He looked up in surprise, the flame going out.  
"I only want some battle experience before the war ends. It's not that big a deal"  
"The fact that you don't have any experience is what makes it a big deal. Also, you've done Malarkey a massive favour, he's been through so much already." I said, handing him the chocolate. "You'll need to eat something. Go on, I haven't poisoned it." The corners of his mouth lifted in an almost smile as he popped a square in his mouth and leaned back against the wall.  
"Thank you. I didn't realise you were part of the airborne, I wasn't aware that they were enlisting women now." He admitted, going back to his gun.  
"They aren't and I'm not, I sort of latched on to the group in Holland. Something happened and they could use another medic so Nixon got me a uniform and here I am." I received a slow nod in response. I watched him at work for another minute or so until Joe walked in and motioned for me to come over. I pushed myself to my feet and sat the rest of the chocolate beside Lieutenant Jones, tapping the back of his hand before I left.  
"Your ring will shine if any light hits it. Good luck, Jones. Don't get yourself killed on your first mission, okay?" I smiled and saluted before I left, giggling as he shook his head a little and took his ring off.

Joe grinned as I walked over. I couldn't help but smile in response, he looked a little mischievous.  
"What're you so happy about? I asked, throwing myself back down on my bunk and hugged my pillow. I was so tired, I could've slept standing upright.  
"Webster got me outta the patrol, now I'm just providing covering fire."  
"How did he get you out of that?" I exclaimed. "Did you give him all of your cigarettes or something?"  
"We both speak German. I think Web was trying to get out of the patrol but Martin caught on and let me stay behind. Great, huh?" He replied triumphantly, lighting up yet another cigarette. I took a sip from my canteen and sighed as I felt the water trickling down my throat. It's one of the best feelings, taking a drink of water after inhaling a tonne of dust for eight hours.  
"I didn't know you spoke German"  
"It comes in useful."  
"What, like getting you out of a patrol?" I laughed, hitting him with my pillow. In response he blew a steady stream of smoke in my face and I choked a little, trying to inhale as little water as possible.  
"I swear, one day scientists will prove those things kill you." I said, a little raspily.  
"I'd rather be killed by a smoke than by a Kraut." Joe stated, shrugging his shoulders and I must admit, he had me stumped there. I caught his eye and I nodded towards Jones.  
"I don't understand why everybody treats him like a child. He knows what he's doing, I can tell." Joe rolled his eyes at me and lay back so that his head was in my lap. I tried to push him off, but he'd decided where he was lying.  
"He's just a fuckin' kid, Rita, plus he's got no experience! He has no idea how badly this could go, how many of them could actually get killed! You're too trusting of people, this is Webster all over again. For Christ sake, the soldiers on the allied side could get fucking killed too."  
"What other way is there to get battle experience than to go into battle?" I asked, running my fingers through the tangles in Joe's overgrown hair.  
"He's just a kid." He repeated, kneading his eyes "I'm sick of watching goddamn replacements coming in all excited about war then getting themselves fucking killed as soon as they start fighting. If they weren't at Toccoa, they don't stand a chance."  
"Heffron's doing alright for himself." I felt compelled to point out.  
"One guy out of how many?"  
I sighed a little to myself. He did have a point, there were so many men came in as replacements and hardly any came back out again. I'd sewn up what seemed like hundreds of them myself, and that had only been for just over a month. God knows how many had been killed since Normandy. Joe crossed his arms over his chest keeping his eyes closed and mumbled something about being tired.  
"You have at least an hour and a half to sleep. I'll go get my own bunk" I began to say, but as I went to stand Joe grabbed my hand and opened his eyes.  
"Stay?"  
I sighed theatrically, sitting back down. I began to comb through his hair with my fingers again and he fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

**I can't help but feel there's something missing from this chapter...ah yes, a plot! Oh well, hopefully it's good enough for you guys, and I really hope you like it, even if its just a little bit. Until next time, my lovelies! **


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: I can't get over how lovely everybody is on this site, like seriously! I couldn't be any luckier to have such amazing reviews and they make me really happy. So, thank you very much and it is much appreciated! Also another Rita POV, but this time because I don't honestly know how to write it from Joe's perspective. I hope you all have a lovely and very merry Christmas, and if you don't celebrate Christmas then I hope you're having a wonderful holiday! Hugs and presents from Scotland! **

[Rita's POV]

I was jerked awake by the sound of an explosion and the constant drilling of machine gun fire. I had fallen asleep by the window in a splintering chair, trying desperately to see what was happening on the other side of the river. Dragging my fist across my eyes, I wiped the condensation from the glass. All I could hear was the high pitched whistling of machinegun fire and deep rumbles of the ground shuddering beneath. The night sky was filled with almost blinding flashes of lights and I could hear muffled shouts from the other side of the river. My thoughts instantly drifted to Jones leading the patrol. I worried about whether or not he had made it across at all; one of the last dinghies had overturned before they had even made it over the river and the men had trudged back, sodden and ashamed with their tails between their legs. I tiptoed between the men sprawled over the room towards 'Gene who offered me his cigarette packet which I waved away. I plonked myself down on the bed beside him and leaned against the headboard. The exhaustion I felt was almost overwhelming; it pulled down on my eyelids and made my eyeballs itch and ache, yet I didn't want to close my eyes just in case I missed something important. The room wasn't small, but somehow it felt positively constricting, the air heavy with dust and tangible anxiety and I found myself breathing quicker than usual. To pass what would be another long hour I pulled the now tattered copy of Shakespeare from my bag and began to read again. I skimmed through about four acts, not reading the play at all, my eyes drooping. Eventually I gave in to my exhaustion and slumped down, closing my eyes and drifting off almost instantly.

XXX

I rolled over and smiled a little. The sun was streaming through my window and the view of the mountains was absolutely gorgeous. I closed my eyes again,revelling in the peacefulness of the morning- I usually had mother violently threatening me to get up or else at this time. Birds were chirruping and the gentle sound of rushing water from the river beside the house was like music to my ears. I dozed off again a few more times, then at ten oclock I persuaded myself to get up. Getting to my feet I lifted my grey, slightly worn out dressing gown from the chair beside my bed and sat myself down in front of my dressing table. My hair was still somewhat in its braid from the previous night, but all my tossing and turning had liberated a good half of the curls. I tugged the elastic from the end of the braid and began to run a brush through my hair, only occasionally coming across a tug. Deciding that I was too lazy to retie it, I let the waves hang loose, singing to myself as I danced down the stairs, thoughts of bacon and eggs trailing around my mind.  
"Mama?" I called, chapping the kitchen door. "Papa, are you two awake yet?" Strangely there was no response. I pushed the door open and I suddenly had to lean on the doorframe for support, my legs failing me. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out, bar a small squeak. Bile filled my throat and I couldn't breathe, eyes and nose burning, my body shuddering. I stumbled over to the kitchen table where my family now sat at the kitchen table, tied to their chairs with slumped heads, scarlet blood coating their pyjamas and the floor, yellow stars sloppily plastered on their backs. I felt hot tears slide down my face as I choked on my sobs, fingers feeling the bullet wounds in the backs of their heads. I collapsed to the floor in front of them, unable to stand anymore. Mother hadn't even combed her hair! I saw my hands through the blur of tears; they were coated with their blood and I retched as I frantically wiped them on my trousers, desperate to get the blood off; my sobs becoming more and more strangled until I felt like I was being suffocated. Then, cold metal was being pressed into the back of my neck and I froze. No. Please no. I heard the gun being cocked and I squeezed my eyes shut, only being able to whimper as fear paralysed my brain.  
"Stehen, Juden. _STEHEN_!"

XXXX

I sat up with a scream. Joe stood over me, shaking my arm and dabbing at my forehead with a piece of cloth. I was sodden with sweat and tears. He sat down beside me, pulling me into his lap and letting me cry into his shoulder, all the while rubbing his hand up and down my back and telling me that it was 'just a nightmare, everything's okay.' I don't know how long I sat with my face buried into his uniform, but eventually the sobs subsided and my breathing was almost back to normal, just a little shuddery. I pulled away to wipe my nose on my sleeve and took a few calming breaths.  
"How long have you been back?" I asked, hoping that he wouldn't ask about the dream. He was almost brown with dirt smears, a little blood spattered across his face and uniform, his eyes had massive bags hanging beneath them and stubble had started to shadow his chin. He checked his watch, running a hand through his dirty hair.  
"It's been a half hour now. I came up to see how you were and you were screaming and shaking, I couldn't wake you for at least ten minutes." His forehead was creased with concern and he continued to swab the sweat from my forehead. Leaning me forward, he slid in behind so that he had his back to the headboard and I could lean back against him.  
"How did the patrol go, do you know?" I asked, relaxing into his chest, his arms winding around me.  
"We got a whole bunch of prisoners but we lost Jackson. We brought him back on a stretcher and he died downstairs... he wasn't even fuckin' twenty yet, Rita, he'd joined the army at sixteen. _Sixteen!_" I took his hand and we sat in silence for a little while, not talking. I couldn't believe that we'd lost Jackson. He was such a nice boy, always there with a hello or a how are you, and from what I could see, everybody liked him. I could feel my eyes beginning to droop again, and I fought to keep them open. I did not want a repeat of the nightmare, thank you very much."You should get some sleep." Joe said suddenly, shifting so that he could slip out. "It's been a long day and we're gonna have an early start tomorrow." I grabbed his hand before he could escape and pulled the same puppy eyed trumph card he had pulled not three days before.  
"Stay?" I asked, tugging on his arm. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but I did not relent. "In case I have another nightmare?" Sighing he sat back down on the bed. I rolled over a little so that he could lay beside me, watching him pull off his boots and socks. He pulled me closer and threw an arm around my shoulders so that I could lie across his chest.  
"You're a manipulative little bitch, you know that?" sniggering, I cuddled in closer to his side to try and get warm, now that I had stopped sweating and shaking I could feel the chill. We lay under the thin covers, once again lapsing into silence. I had shut my eyes and was just on the brink of sleep when Joe nudged my arm.  
"Hey, Rit, are you asleep?"  
"Just about."  
"Oh, okay. Never mind. Goodnight." I sat up a little.  
"No, tell me. Im awake enough!"  
"Never mind, just go to sleep!" I sighed, exasperated. I hated it when people did that...  
"Okay fine, I'll go to sleep. See you in the morning." I smiled a little to myself and waited for him to take the bait. I had to wait a little longer than usuall, but eventually he got out with it.  
"D'ya remember what I told you back in Bastogne?"  
"What, that you'd stop stealing my chocolate?" I snickered, earning a light punch on the arm.  
"No, idiot, about taking you to see America sometime." I leaned up on one elbow so that I could properly see his face, but he refused to look me in the eye. I nodded, as if to say 'yes,get to the point.'  
"See if we both get out of this goddamned hell hole alive..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Wouldyoucomebacktoamericawit hme?" he said, rushing all of his words together in his, what looked like, embarrassment. I quirked an eyebrow.  
"Can I have that in English please?" He glared at me and took a deep breath.  
"Would. You. Come. Back. To. America. With. Me."  
"With you? As in with with you?" I asked.  
"Yes, with with. As in go back as my girlfriend." He replied, a scowl stretching its way across his face whilst a grin stretched across mine.  
"I'd love to." He sat up straight, finally looking at me.  
"What, really? What about your family here, and your friends?"  
"My family and I never really got on, and my friends are here in this building or dead." I replied. "I want to go back with you."  
He grinned and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. I was startled, my eyes opening wide and mouth not responding. He pulled back, quickly, scrubbing a hand through his hair and, once again avoiding eye contact.  
"I'm sorry I-" he began to say, but I rolled my eyes and pulled him back up by the front of his uniform, kissing him with as much as I could. I felt him smile against my lips as he wrapped his warms around my waist and pulled me closer and I ran my hands through his overgrown hair, occasionally knotting my fingers in the soft strands. Eventually, I broke the kiss, becoming acutely aware that somebody could walk in at any time, and I got ragged enough without someone discovering this.  
"Joe, we probably shouldn't..."  
"Probably" he replied, leaning in again and muffling my giggles with his lips.  
Suddenly the door slammed open and we sprang apart, guiltily sneaking glances at each other as Lewis Nixon walked in. He looked a little worse for wear and he knew exactly what had happened, you could tell from the smirk that pulled on the corner of his mouth. He reached into a footlocker and pulled out a bottle of what I could only assume was Vat69 and nodded at us.  
"It's about fuckin' time" he mumbled as he stumbled out the door. I caught Joe's eye and we both started to laugh uncontrollably, settling down again for the night.  
"So that's a yes?" Joe clarified with a cheeky grin. I slapped his arm and shut my eyes.  
"You're incorrigible..." I murmured, the tiredness suddenly becoming overpowering. "But yes, it's a yes."

**JESUS, FINALLY, WHAT TOOK YOU TWO SO LONG?! Ugh, honestly... Anyways, that's chapter 11 finally up and I hope you enjoy. Please review and once again, I hope you have a very merry Christmas and if I don't update by then I hope you have a wonderful new year! Over and out.**


	12. Chapter 12

**[Rita's POV]**

I head Winters and Nixon entering the main room. I left my pile of half organised supplies and walked over to the doorway, nodding and smiling to Lieutenant Jones as I took a seat beside Joe.  
"You men did an excellent job last night," Winters began, taking his helmet off and sitting it on the table. "I am proud, very proud. Infact, I just saw Colonel Sink and he's very proud too... So proud that he wants you to do another patrol across the river tonight." I flinched a little inwardly as each soldier looked down, a mixture of anger, fear and resentment flashing across their faces. "Any moment now" Winters continued after a moment of silence "the outpost we hit last night will go up in flames, Martin?"  
"Yes sir." Johnny confirmed.  
"Which means we need to venture further into town this time. Captain Speirs, can we have the map, please?"  
Speirs tugged the map from his pocket and handed it over to Sergeant Grant, and I was hit with a wave of déjà-vu. The men all held the same expression that haunted them in the convent, if not to a further extreme. They were dead on their feet , bags engulfing their eyes and simply wanting a decent nights sleep without worrying about the enemy, or who was getting killed next. I reached under the table and squeezed Joe's hand, getting one back in return. He didn't let go. Sergeant Grant unfolded the map and lay it flat across the table, Webster moving in closer beside Martin to see the map.  
"We have enemy movement here aannd here, which means that this is our new house target here. We recovered all the boats which means we'll be setting off from the same place as we did last night."  
"We're not changing the plan any, sir?" Marin asked.  
"No," Winters responded, looking back down at the map. "that's the same...Uh, that'll be 0200 hours and 70100. We clear?"  
"Sir." The men mumbled, still looking down. I looked over at Nixon and he shook his head, eyes downcast too.  
"Good. Cause, uh... I want you all to get a full night's sleep tonight. So in the morning, you will report to me that you made it across the river... into German lines and were unable to secure any live prisoners." My forehead crinkled with confusion, as did many of the other men's.  
"Understand?" Winters asked.  
"Yes sir..." came the unanimous response, many still confused.  
"Good." Winters replied, gathering up his things. "Look sharp for tomorrow. We're moving off the line." Realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks and I couldn't stop the grin from forming on my face. As Winters left the men all began to talk at once, relief washing over their faces, yet I couldn't help but notice a sort of disappointment that crept into Jones' eyes. I followed him and Webster out into the cold air and watched as the house target collapsed in a dusty explosion.  
"Do you think that's it over?" Webster asked, moving to stand beside me.  
"I doubt it... but I don't know how much more of this the men can take."  
He nodded, fiddling with the straps on his helmet.  
"They still don't like me much."  
"They'll get over it. Joe is. He starts conversations with you, doesn't he?"  
"I suppose..." he murmured.  
"You coming back inside, Web? I'm freezing my ass off out here..."

XXX

Grinning, I ran over to Harry and enveloped him in a massive bear hug.  
"Well well, there's a familiar face. Welcome back, Harry you daft bastard!"  
"You still here Rita?" he asked, holding me at arms length, smiling his trademark crooked smile.  
"Cant shake me that easily. How's the scratch?"  
"Har-de har har." He laughed, shaking my hand as I passed.  
"Good to have you back, Welsh."  
I giggled all the way back to the jeep and chucked my things into an empty seat, hauling myself up in my typically ladylike manner and settling down. I smiled at all the men sharing my truck and leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the watery sunlight. I felt Joe get on the truck before I saw him: he may have been a scrawny little runt, but he sure knew how to throw his weight around.  
"Hey, she's out of chocolate!" He announced indignantly, rummaging through my medical bag. "Rita, what the fuck, how can you be out of chocolate?! You've been with us for over four months and not once have you ever not had any!" I laughed, snatching my bag back off of him and pulling the last quarter of a chocolate bar from my jacket pocket. Joe lunged for it, but I stuffed it in my mouth before he could even get close to it. Hey, out of the millions of chocolate bars I carried I had eaten next to none, I deserved this. Sticking up his middle finger, Joe turned in a pretend sulk and I smirked around my mouthful of chocolate, punching him lightly on the arm. I raised my arm and waved as Webster approached the truck, smiling as he waved back. I stilled slightly as Joe glared at him making his way over, but as soon as he tried to pull himself into the convoy, Joe extended an arm, laughing a little.  
"You're a little shit, you know that?" I murmured to him as I moved up to make room for Web.  
"Yeah, I know. You love me really." He smirked. I rolled my eyes. Cocky little bastard...

**[Joe's POV]**

We were all knackered. The convoy had ended up in Thalem and to be honest I was glad to be out of Hagenau . Thalem was covered in rubble and dirt, the towns people were either clearing away the mess as best as they could with little wooden carts, or looking for family lost beneath the wreckage, crying out to us for help. Four men were sat with instruments on tiny stools, playing a melancholy song in the middle of this destroyed town, eyes closed, totally engrossed in their tune. A horse and cart made its rounds, collecting three legged chairs and towel racks as it went. "I'll tell ya one thing about the Krauts," Luz said "They sure clean up good." We were sat in a hole in the side of a building, using what was left of the walls as a seat and resting on our guns.  
"Yeah... All you need's a little Mozart." I replied. If this was a movie, the music would reflect all of our moods exactly; especially mine.  
"Beethoven." Came a gruff voice from behind me.  
"Sorry, sir?"  
"That's not Mozart. That's Beethoven." Nixon replied, walking to the front of the hole to watch the Germans.

I lit up a cigarette and wondered what Rita was doing.

XXX

**[Rita's POV] **

We were moving out. Again. We had literally just arrived in Sturzelberg, and that was us leaving already. I was getting a little bit tired of hours on a truck, the base of my back numb and bruised from all the potholes, I was getting even more tired of Shakespeare and I was getting very tired of being jerked awake every three seconds and if I heard someone sing one more song from Oklahoma , I was gonna hurt them. The place was heaving with soldiers, and even through my miserable mood, I could see that their morale had been raised, even just a little. I inwardly groaned as someone sat down beside me. Well, here goes.  
"You hear where we're headed?" Webster asked, a huge grin spreading across his face as he suffocated me in a massive hug.  
"Berlin?"  
"Bavaria! The birthplace of national socialism!" He laughed, almost bouncing up and down in his chair with excitement. I forced a smile on my face and rested my head against one of the metal beams, letting my eyes slide shut. Maybe I could catch a couple hours of- Oh. I groaned under my breath as someone began to sing a song I didn't recognise. Joe threw himself on my other side and grinned, joining in with the chorus and jabbing me in the side until I opened my eyes. I glared at him and folded my arms.  
"Gory, gory what a helluva way to die!Gory,gory what a helluva way to die! Gory, Gory what a helluva way to die! He aint gonna jump no more!"  
"This is pretty morbid, don't you think?" I asked him, still sulking. He just grinned at me and began to sing even louder with the rest of the men, pulling a bar of chocolate out of his pocket and handing it to me.  
"I figured I owed ya something." He smiled and resumed singing. I grinned back and joined in with the words I knew, sharing my bar around the thirteen or so men in my truck.

They did not stop singing all the way up the mountain. They just got louder and louder, they harmonized, they stood and sang, hauling me up with them, and then finally, _finally_ they ran out of things to sing, and everybody sat back down.  
"That went on forever" I murmured to Joe, closing my heavy eyes. "how do you remember it all? I remember once I had to learn all of the multiplication tables up to eleven. Now, I'm twenty three and still don't even know my six times table off by heart. I don't know how I'd manage to remember a song that long."  
"Get the fuck to sleep,Rita" He laughed, "You can use my arm if you want."  
"You're too kind" I replied, letting my head fall onto his shoulder with a small thud and an "ow" in response. I was asleep almost instantly

...

I was jerked awake by the truck going over a pothole, but I refused to open my eyes. I was ridiculously comfortable for once, no longer resting on Joe's shoulder, but at some point he must have thrown an arm around my shoulders so that my head was on his chest instead. He was halfway through a conversation with Webster, shouting a little so that he could be heard over the other soldiers.  
" It's gonna be good times, Web... When we get home I mean... First thing I'm gonna do is get my job back at the cab company in Frisco. Make a killing of all those fucking sailors coming home, you know? Then I'm gonna find me a nice Jewish girl, with great big soft titties and a smile to die for. Marry her. Then I'm gonna buy a house... A big house, with lots of bedrooms for all the little Liebgotts we're gonna be making." I could hear the smirk in Websters voice as he responded.  
"So essentially you're takin' Rita back with you and marrying her?"  
"Why wouldya think that? And Rita aint Jewish, is she?" I internally rolled my eyes, he wasn't fooling anybody here.  
"Of course she is you idiot. Why else would her parents send her away? And besides I think everyone's it for granted that you two are gonna get together once this whole things over."  
"What about you?" Joe asked, ignoring Web's previous statement.  
"I'll guess I'll finish school and then- "  
"Wait a minute, *finish* school? You mean all this time you've been talking about "Harvard this" and "Harvard that" and you ain't even finished?" Joe asked, incredulously.  
"For one thing, I haven't told you anything. But yes, yes, I haven't finished, so the fuck what?"  
"It's just the way you always talked, you know? We all figured that... You know what, you're right. So the fuck what."  
I smiled a little, internally at that. It was probably the only time I'd witnessed Joseph Liebgott knowing when to stop. Even though he had already asked me back to the states with him, there was an excited knot in the pit of my stomach and I felt disgustingly pleased with myself, and to be honest I was dying for the war to be over. I could feel myself dozing off again, so I blocked out the rattling of the truck and the noisy conversations and let myself drift off once again.

XXX

**[Joe's POV]**

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was beyond repulsive, many of the soldiers were covering their mouths and noses with sleeves and handkerchiefs. I would have covered my mouth if I could move, but the shock and disgust at what I was seeing had frozen me solid. There was two rows of little mudhuts either side of the road and coming from them were hundreds and hundreds of skeletal men. They were simply skin and bones, some so starved that the muscles in their legs had deteriorated and were being carried, their stomachs caving in so that their ribcages looked as if they could burst out of their skin. We could only look on in shock as they stumbled out of the huts in filthy, paper thin pyjamas, some clinging to each other for support. There were heaps of bodies piled up beside houses or crumpled in the middle of the road, either having died of starvation or been shot. Many began to cry when they saw us standing there, clinging to us and sobbing, touching us in anyway that they could. I was halfway through a discussion with Rita and her response to my question died on her lips. I watched as her hands began to shake and she swayed dangerously on the spot, her face washed of any colour.  
"Rita?" I asked, putting a hand on her arm. This seemed to steady her a little as she shook it off and walked shakily towards the camp. Prisoners would embrace her, sobbing into her shoulder or kissing her face and she would speak soothingly to them, helping them sit on the ground and handing them her canteen  
"Trinken Sie." she murmured, holding the canteen to their lips with one hand and supporting them with another. "Drink."  
One of the men stood outside his little mudhut, supporting himself entirely on the small door. He had been squinting at Rita since she entered and suddenly, his sallow face lit up and his eyes widened.  
"Ist das meine Enkelin? Rita? Rita, bist du das? Das ist meine Enkelin!" Came a hoarse cry from the man "_is that my granddaughter? Rita? Rita, is that you? That's my granddaughter!" _In his excitement he lost his hold on the door frame and fell to his knees, unable to hail himself back to his feet. She rested her current prisoner against a dirt pile and ran over to the man and helped him to his feet. He cupped her face in his hands, tears streaming down his face as he kissed her forehead and proceeded to hug her, sobbing into her neck.  
"I don't believe it..." I murmured watching as the two embraced, Rita garbling away in rapid German and the old man listening intently. I whistled in her direction, a small sharp whistle which seemed to break the two out of their bubble. Gesturing to the rest of the camp I mouthed at her to bring the man back to the front of the camp. She nodded back at me and murmured something to the man. He shakily lifted an arm around her shoulders and she slowly stood, gently lifting him into her arms. Carefully, she made her way back to the front of the camp, ordering soldiers around her to fetch a prisoner some rations or to get their asses to the mud huts right at the back of the camp. Eventually she reached us and set the old man onto the back of a truck, pulling a blanket around him and giving him my canteen.  
"Ich werde wieder in einem moment, Opa." She said, turning to run back up to the camp. "_I'll be back in a moment, granddad." _ The old man, her grandfather turned to me and I was surprised to see Rita's eyes looking back at me. They were the exact same shade of green.  
"Sprechen Sie kein Englisch?" I asked him.  
"Ja, a little bit." He replied. Christ, he even had her smile, and his accent mimicked her sleep-heavy one.  
"So you're Rita's Grandfather, huh?" I asked, smiling a little. "I've heard a lot about you."  
"Only good things, I would hope." Came the wan response. I rummaged through my bag and passed him a packet of rations, practically forcing the bag on him. Rita had her back to us and was throwing orders at Nixon and Spiers, which was pretty fuckin' ballsy, even for her.  
"She's a helluva woman, isn't she?" I smirked, jumping up to sit beside her granddad. "So what do I call ya, Mr Howell sounds a little weird to me."  
"Call me Kurt." We sat for a while in silence, me occasionally fixing the heavy woollen blanket around him and him slowly but surely he ate his way through the small bag of rations. I was a little surprised by his slow eating pace, the other prisoners fell on the rations like a pack of wolves.  
"Rita asked about her mother and father." He said suddenly, leaning against the side of the truck and rubbing his stomach. I looked at him, slightly in shock. Rita never wanted to talk about her parents, whenever I brought them up she pretended not to hear and changed the subject. The surprise must've been evident on my face as he shook his head sadly.  
"They had a small home in Germany and many Jewish slurs had been painted on the doors; their windows were smashed and people set fire to their gardens, shot their dog. Then one day, they opened the door and there they were. They were hauled out into the streets and forced to their knees and shot through the backs of their heads. Her mother put up quite a fight, or so I've heard. Rita gets that from her mother."  
"Jesus Christ..." I murmured, looking back around to find her helping two more men back.  
"I don't know how to tell her. I was lucky, they caught me trying to escape back to Holland and put me in here. But I don't know how to tell her. It'd break her heart." He whispered with a sob. I put an arm around him and let him cry into my shoulder, rubbing his arm in some form of comfort. Rita came bounding back to the truck with water and some rations.  
"Joe have you given him some of your rations? I brought some extra just in case you'd given all yours away but- Opa? Was ist los?" she asked, her rushed speech coming to an abrupt halt.  
"Nichts, mein Kind. Ich bin einfach so erleichtert, sehen Sie am Leben und gesund. Können wir reden?" He replied with a watery smile. "_nothing my child. I'm just so relieved to see you alive and well. Can we talk?" _  
"Joe, would you excuse us a minute?" she asked, passing me an armful of blankets and rations. "go help the others bring the men in, yeah?" I grumbled a response and pushed past her to pass out the supplies.

XXX

**[RITA'S POV]**

"Leaving so soon?" George asked, laughing as I hugged him goodbye. I had a new dress on, my little black medical bag was packed and I hadn't scraped my hair back into its usual braid. The tiny little room was crammed full with paratroopers I had said my farewells to. Well all apart from one.  
"It's been nearly five months, George, I think I've overstayed my welcome." I pointed out.  
"Well you take care of yourself, you hear me?" He grinned, winking as he shook my hand. I stuck my tongue out at him. That was everyone. Everyone except Joe. Jeez, I'd even said goodbye to Cobb before Joe. I stood nervously by the doorway, waiting for him to return, fiddling with my dress. It felt so strange to wear a dress after months and months of a heavy shirt and trousers. A woman in the town was kind enough to tailor one of her daughters old dresses to fit me, and she gave me a pair of her old shoes. I took a nervous drink from my canteen and set it down on the small wooden table.  
"Rita?" Joe asked as he walked in, his eyes narrowing a little as he took in my loose hair and new attire. "Where's your uniform?"  
I took a deep breath, and sat my medical bag beside the canteen.  
"I'm leaving, Joe. I came to say goodbye." I said, looking anywhere but his eyes. A look of confusion flickered over his face.  
"What do you mean you're leaving? Where are you going?" He demanded.  
"Grandaddy asked me if I could stay with him a while. I took him up on his offer."  
"What?"  
"Joe, you're not making this any easier for me. I'm going to stay in Germany."  
"But just for a few weeks, right? You'll be moving out with us?" He asked, eyes roaming my face. I felt tears pricking my eyes and I blinked them back.  
"I'm staying with him as long as I have to. That could be a few weeks, a month, a year." Joe seemed to mull something over in his mind before saying it, all the time looking straight at me.  
"What about..." he began, the words sticking in his throat, "What about America? I thought we were going back together." As I saw the hurt enter his eyes the tears finally spilled onto my cheeks and I reached out to hold his hand. He snatched his hand back, waiting for my answer.  
"He's my family Joe! How could I say no, imagine that was you!" I began indignantly "I'm all he has left and I made him a promise, I cant just leave him waiting there for a granddaughter that isn't going to come!"  
"You promised me too. So you're just gonna leave me there waiting?"  
" Joe, please put yourself in my shoes!" I hissed, trying to calm him down a little, as we were drawing attention from the rest of the company.  
"So you're just gonna abandon me cause some old kraut bastard wants your company?" he spat. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze. I could feel the anger pulsing through my veins; my fists clenched and my breathing becoming heavy.  
"What did you just call him?" I said quietly, putting as much venom into the question as I could, but Joe did not back down.  
"Did I fucking stutter? An old. Kraut. Bastard"  
I didn't even think. I just drew back my arm and threw it forward into Joe's mouth with a satisfying _crunch!_ Sadly, that crunch was my own fingers shattering and I sucked in a breath through my teeth. Joe's lip was split right in half, a rivulet of blood trickling down his chin.  
"Rita-" He began but I grabbed my medical bag from the table and stormed out of the room.  
"RITA!" I heard him call out from behind me, but I ignored him, throwing up the middle finger in the hope that he was watching. I slammed out of the house into the warm evening air and began to walk briskly up the road; hot, angry tears splashing down my cheeks.

XXX

For the first time since I came into this war I felt regret. It was a weird feeling, curling in a tight ball in my gut, twisting my heart. But that wasn't until later, when I went to tell her a joke and she wasn't by my side. For the time being I was so filled with irrational fury the edges of my vision became blurred with red. My fists clenched and with a howl of rage I picked up her abandoned canteen from the table and hurled it as hard as I could against the wall. I scraped my hands through my hair and turned to face the remaining crowd.  
"What the fuck are you bastards looking at?" I shouted, glaring as hard as I could. Slightly shame faced, everyone stumbled out to leave, apart from Webster. I sighed, exasperated and slumped down against the wall to the floor, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the bridge of my nose. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was this son of a bitch.  
"Hey, Joe... I have something you might want." He said, holding out a little black book. I snatched it from his hands and tossed it to one side, holding the cuff of my sleeve to my lip.  
"Webster. Please. Im only going to ask you once. Can ya just _please_ fuck-"  
"Ok ok im going! But seriously, take a look." He said, nodding towards the notebook. I grumbled some sort of response, the anger slowly being replaced with exhaustion. I made sure Webster was out of the room totally before sighing heavily and throwing my head backwards against the wall a couple of times. Rubbing my mouth, I picked up the tattered book. It was spattered with mud and the corners were worn away to nothing. What the fuck would I want with a shitty little _book_ for? Flicking through it, I blinked a little at the little pencil sketches that filled the book. There were some of Lipton crouching beside foxholes in Bastogne, there were drawings of a group of men, what looked like Luz and O'Keefe were among them, lounging back in some chairs, mouths open as if they were singing. There was a few of me. Actually, a lot of them were of me. There I was, sleeping in the convent, fixing the bayonet on the end of my gun, sitting in a rickety chair with my helmet in the crook of my arm and a bloodied bandage wrapped around my neck. I flicked to the very front of the book and smiled a little at the neatly printed name. _Property of Rita Howell._  
"Hey you never told me you could draw" I began to say, then I remembered. "What the fuck have I done?" I murmured to myself, running a hand through my hair again, the split lip really beginning to sting. I remembered the anger in her eyes, the pure _hatred _that I'd never seen there before. I recoiled a little as I realised that the hatred was aimed at me. Flicking through the pages of the book at random, I came across a page with a folded corner and smiled a little at the drawing inside. Over two pages she had drawn a picture of a vast playing field and a whole bunch of men with baseball bats and caps on. On the sidelines there were three women in frocks watching the men, chatting. A caption at the bottom of the photo read "_America, according to Joe."  
_I slammed the book shut and threw it to the other end of the room, once again slamming my head off of the wall.

I'd really fucked it up this time.

**AN: Dont throw things at me, I can explain! Ok I cant really, I just felt that their relationship was going a little too well for my liking. Joe is rather unstable and a little hot-tempered so I thought I should bring that into the story... I wrote and re-wrote and accidentally deleted it all, then re-wrote again before I was sort of pleased with it so yeah...sorry It took so long to update! Im also aware of the highly unlikelyness of her meeting her granddad there but its just what popped into my head. I also completely failed to capture the horror of those camps, but I really hope something came across. Please leave a review,they really make my day!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Hello everyone! I have a couple of things to say. Firstly,It's gonna be quite hard for me to update because I have prelims until the end of January, but I'll try my hardest to update as much as possible! Secondly, I think this is us drawing nearer to an end of the story so I have a question for you guys. I have grown quite attatched to these two and would love to write more stories for them but Im not sure what to write, so I would like to ask you a favour,almost. If you have any Liebgott/oc AU's that you'd like to read could you send me a message or leave a review with suggestions! It could be highschool au or it could be anything! Anyways, on with the story!  
(p.s I would like to give a wee thank you to the guest reviewer who keeps suggesting things for the story, like kurt staying in. I wasn't going to have him as a major character but I've sort of changed my mind now. But thank you for suggesting this and thank you for previously suggesting that I don't totally miss out the chapters based on the last patrol, you've been an awesome help to my story!)**

**[Rita's POV]**

Flicking through the post, I couldn't suppress my excitement when I came across two thick yellow envelopes, addressed to me in ridiculously neat handwriting. Granddad had been discharged from a quickly constructed German aid station a month or two ago, with a strict diet plan and a considerable amount more flesh on his bones. We'd moved into an abandoned house just outside of Germany and I'd made sure to write a letter to Webster as soon as we got there to let him and the guys know I had gotten where I needed to be and was ok. Well, I had Granddad write the letter as most of my hand was in a cast. I'd broken three of my fingers punching Joe; either I was pathetic at punching or he had a solid face. It was probably the former- punching people wasn't exactly a habit of mine. I was still fairly angry with Joe, but I was mostly disappointed in him. I'd been writing to Webster for at least four weeks and after the second letter, some of the other guys would write a wee note too, putting their messages in the same envelope. It made my week, hearing from them, it really did. I would hear about Speirs' sudden kleptomaniac tendencies for all things shiny, I heard about them taking the eagles nest and finding plenty of souvenirs to take home. I heard some bad things too. Things like the points system. Or the men being stuck, constantly worried over whether or not they were being sent out to the Pacific instead of shipped off home. I received letters from men I'd rarely spoken to, unless it was when I was patching them up or passing them a bit of chocolate if they looked a bit sad. Suddenly, three letters stuffed into an envelope became five. Five became seven. Seven became eleven, and it escalated in such a way that soon, I was receiving three envelopes every two weeks or so, crammed full of letters and sometimes little things they had found and thought I would like (mostly little bars of chocolate), but not once was there even an ink smudge from Joe. It made me a little sad, although I had no right to be- I never wrote to him either. I tried not to mind, but I suppose Web felt the need to apologise for him. His letters were always the longest and the most neatly written, and they were almost always signed with a "_P.S. I tried to get Joe to write something, but he would either glare at me or threaten to stick the pen somewhere very unpleasant." _ Webster would also write a few letters for some of the other men who struggled to read and write, and read out my letters for them. I almost always knew what they were up to and it reassured me to know that they were doing okay.

For the next hour or so I sat at the kitchen table reading my letters and writing out a reply to each one. I didn't have as many as I usually did , and they were quite short too, even David's. There was a letter from Nixon that I sat aside to read later. The second envelope felt different to the first one and I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped as I pulled around thirty photographs out. A grin stuck on my face, I flicked through them, paying close attention to the faces. Some were candid photos of them sitting around a table playing cards, some had fallen asleep in their chairs, one was reading. Then there were a few set up photos of duo's and trios and then finally a massive group photo with a note from all of the men on the back. I laughed to myself as I read through each comment, watching as they changed from the polite varieties of "we miss you" to the less polite comments cursing me for leaving them without a reliable chocolate supply. All of the men had signed it, even Colonel Sink. But nothing from Joe.

"Rita, could you come through for a moment?" Granddad called from his room. I jumped to my feet and walked quickly through. Although he had began to re-gain some weight, he seemed to be getting sicker and sicker, and I was going to do everything I could to get him back to his full health. I grabbed the letters and photographs on my way past, he liked hearing about what was going on just as much as I did.  
"Would you like some lunch?" I asked as I walked in, "I was about to start the soup when the mail came, I've some more letters from the men. There wasn't a lot of letters, but they sent photographs and Eugene is asking after you." He smiled tiredly from his bed and motioned for me to sit down.  
" I might as well get straight to the point, Rita. Neither myself or the Doctor think that I'm going to pull out of this cold-my immune system is far too weak." I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to silence me.  
"I already know that you're adamant that I will get better, little bird, but let me put it into perspective. I'm an old man and I've had a good life. Better than most and I couldn't have wished for a better one. I was only in that camp for two months, almost all of those men had been there for at least nine. I don't mind going now that I'm not alone."  
"But granddad, what about-" I began, tears sliding down my face, but once again I was silenced.  
"You'll be ok. You'll still have the house and all your new friends. You'll be ok." He smiled, setting the letters down on the bedside table and taking my hand. I took a shuddering breath and wiped my eyes, forcing a smile on my face.  
"I was just about to start lunch. Would you like any?" I repeated, giving granddads hand a squeeze and getting to my feet.  
"I'd love some."  
XXX

After I'd practically forced a bowl of soup down Granddad's throat and washed up I finally threw myself into a kitchen chair, and let my head slump onto my arms, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. I couldn't do this. I began to cry again. What was I supposed to do once he died? I couldn't get a job, god knows I tried, and I didn't know how I could afford a funeral for him. I didn't want to just dump him in a hole out the back. Opa had fallen asleep about an hour ago whilst I was reading out the newspaper and I'd tiptoed back through to the kitchen to let him sleep. I rolled my head to the side a little to wipe my eyes and spotted the forgotten letter from Nixon. Sighing I stood to retrieve it in the vain hope that it would cheer me up. Scanning the letter I realised it wasn't in vain at all. Apparently, the men were going to play baseball up on some mountain in Holland before they were being shipped back to the states and I was being invited, in secret, to say goodbye. I had three days to get there... Challenge accepted! Scribbling a quick reply to Lewis and stuffing it into a separate envelope I walked as quickly as I could down to the post office and handed over the letters and some money. I ran home, slamming the front door open and flew into my bedroom, grabbing my suitcase from undeneath the bed and raced over to the wardrobe, grabbing random dresses and cardigans and throwing them in along with underwear, tights, shoes and my toiletries. I ran into Granddads room to wake him, throwing his wardrobe open and taking out trousers and shirts and socks and carrying them through to my suitcase, calling out "Opa, wake up! Opa, c'mon we gotta head out!" as I left. I threw our toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and other toiletries into a bag and walked back through to granddad's bedroom.  
"Opa? Are you ok?" I asked, crouching beside him and shaking his shoulder. "_Opa?" _I whispered, trying to find a pulse. I couldn't find one. I felt my hands tighten into fists as I sank to my knees beside the bed, too shocked to cry.

**Apologies for the slightly shoddy chapter but I was just really struggling with it. The next chapter will be a bajillion times better, I promise, and from Joe's POV. Again, if you have any ideas for a oneshot fanfic or an AU with Joe and Rita in it, let me know! Thank you very very much for reading and I'll update with a better chapter ASAP.**


	14. Chapter 14

**[Rita's POV]**

It was an absolutely sweltering day, no clouds to stop the full heat of the sun beating down on me. Here I was, once again in Holland, practically hiking up a hill with a basket full of fruit and chocolate and a few bottles of water and a stomach full of butterflies. I wasn't going to lie, I was terrified. Obviously, terrified of Joe's reaction to my return, only Lewis Nixon knew that I was coming back today, but I was also terrified of being re-united with the rest of the men. I'd seen how much they'd changed after a month in Bastogne and I wasn't sure if I was going to be returning to the men that I'd left. I reached the top of the hill and scraped my hair back from my face and pulling it into a ponytail, taking a deep breath and searching for Nixon. Easy company were playing baseball, some in PT gear and some with their heavy shirts unbuttoned and looking happier and more carefree than I'd ever seen them. I smiled in relief as I spotted Nixon lounging against one of the jeeps with his ridiculous sunglasses on chattering away to Winters. As inconspicuously as possible (not easy in a floral dress) I quick-walked over to them, grinning hugely as I did so.  
"Well, well, look who it is! You got my letter then?" Nix laughed, taking off his sunglasses before pulling me into a hug. I hugged him back and pulled away, holding out my hand for Winters to shake.  
"Welcome back, Miss Howell." He smiled, taking my hand.  
"Please, call me Rita." Nixon said at exactly the same time as me. I stuck my tongue out at him and awkwardly jumped to sit on the bonnet of the car,the cast on my hand somewhat hindering my movements, and sat my basket beside me. I pulled out some chocolate and handed the two men a bar each.  
"I brought quite a lot cause I wasn't sure how many men would be... I wasn't sure how many were still alive." I said gesturing towards the basket. "I also ate a few on the journey here."  
"The men'll be glad to see you. They've been like bears with sore heads since you left, and I'm pretty sure that isn't a coincidence." Lieutenant Speirs smiled as he ambled over to us, shaking my hand. "And I'm afraid to say Joe's face left more of a mark on your hand than your hand left on his face." I tossed him some chocolate and he caught it just as I heard the cry of "HEY, IT'S RITA!" from someone on the pitch. I jumped from the hood of the car just in time to be sent flying by a rugby tackle hug from George Luz. He squeezed me tightly then got to his feet, pulling me up by my good hand after him and I was engulfed in hugs from the men. My friends. I felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders and a huge knot had been unfurled in my stomach. I felt like I was home. I giggled and once again made my round of hugs, this time to say hello. Eugene fussed over my cast, Frank instantly asked how much chocolate I was carrying, I gave Babe a small peck on the cheek just for his infamous blush and, to my surprise, Buck Compton had returned. I squealed at the discovery and hugged him as tightly as humanly possible, noting how much better he looked since Bastogne. Eventually there were only two people left to hug. I grinned up at David Webster and was rewarded with a massive bear hug. Now, I am not a short woman, but Webster was at least a head taller than I was and I was lifted off of my feet by the force of his hug, my ribcage being slowly crushed.  
"I've missed you too, ya daft bastard." I snickered, massaging my sore ribs. I told the men to help themselves to fruit and chocolate and turned to face Joe, who smiled wanly at me. He looked terrible, massive bags hanging under his eyes, he'd lost quite a bit of weight and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride as I saw the scab that had formed along his bottom lip.  
"Can we walk?" He asked holding out his hand. I nodded, ignoring it. He turned to look at Winters for permission to leave and was waved the go ahead. Sighing, he stuffed his rejected hand in his pocket and started to walk down the hill. I followed, mustering up all of the angry emotions that I'd been suppressing over the last few months for granddads sake ready to unleash them on Joe, but I was taken by surprise as he sat down halfway down the hill, gently tugging me down beside him. He didn't look angry. He looked exhausted, and the weak "Hello, Rita" that I received took the wind right out of my sails.  
"Hello Joe." I replied tersely. He began plucking out the grass, looking straight ahead at the little car that Nixon had sent to retrieve me. We sat in silence under the hot sun for about five minutes before h finally took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me.  
"You left your drawing book behind. I hope you don't mind, but I had a look through it. You draw real good." He murmured, still plucking at the grass and refusing to turn to look at me.  
"You really hurt my feelings that night Joe." I began. He opened his mouth to say something but I spoke over whatever he was going to retort. "And I mean really hurt my feelings. You have no idea how torn I was, how much I wanted to stay with you and the men. But I couldn't. Granddad needed me more than you did, he could hardly stand on his own two feet without me."  
"I know, I'm sor- " he attempted to say, but I kept on talking.  
"I know I made you a promise. And I was doing my best to keep that promise, I could easily have stayed at one place when the company was moving out, but I didn't. I watched a lot of my friends get blown up or shot or something, and I had no idea if any of my family was still alive. Then we found my Opa, and what's more we found him alive. Then he got sick and you have no idea how hard that was for me. I couldn't write to mother or father for help because I had no idea where they were and granddad refused to tell me." Joe's head whipped round at the last part and he went to cup my face with his hand, but I pulled away.  
"How is Kurt?" He asked.  
"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that the "old kraut bastard" died three days ago." I spat, the realisation of what I'd just said hitting me like a train. Dead. Not coming back. Ever. I felt my heart tear itself in two and tried to suppress the urge to cry. I failed, miserably. Joe's face softened and he put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his lap and rubbing my back. I tried to push myself away but he wasn't relenting, his skinny arms stronger than they looked. It didn't take me long to give in, slumping against his chest and sobbing into his shoulder. I felt like I was five years old.  
"He was starting to get better! He was gaining weight, he was getting stronger and he was getting less tired! But then he got a cold. And the cold turned into the flu which turned into something worse, and he didn't recover and I don't know what I'm gonna do!"  
"Rita, I'm so, so sorry" He murmured into my ear. "You know I'd never say something like that and mean it, especially not to you." He rested his cheek against the top of my head and added so quietly that I wasn't sure whether or not I'd imagined it "My offer is still open."  
I'm not sure how long we sat there, but eventually my sobs subsided somewhat and I pulled away, quickly wiping my eyes and composing myself.  
"Im sorry about your lip." I mumbled, looking down at my hands. He snorted, wiping away a few remaining tears with his thumb and chucked me under the chin.  
"I'm sorry about your hand." I stood up, nodding towards the top of the hill.  
"They'll be wondering where we are." I explained, seeing Joe's puzzled look. He got himself to his feet and held out his arms for a hug. Without even thinking about it I kicked him as hard as I could right where it hurt and he crumpled to his knees, clutching his nuts and doing a mixture of whimpering and groaning.  
"What the fuck was that for?!" he wheezed.  
"That was for what you called my granddad." I said, a Liebgott-worthy smirk spreading across my face. I crouched down beside him and pressed my lips to his, taking him by surprise. I stood back up again, holding out my good hand to help him up.  
"and that was for apologising." He glared up at me, mumbling under his breath about retracting his apology and I just laughed.  
"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" He hissed, wincing and re-adjusting himself once he'd gotten to his feet. I pushed him lightly to the side, still giggling.  
"I've missed you too."

** XXX**

**[Joe's POV]**

I threw myself down beside Webster and snagged the remainder of his chocolate, smiling sarcastically up at him when he protested. We'd just been informed of the Japanese surrender, which meant that the war was officially over. I didn't think I'd ever get over how strange that sounded. Nobody was fighting anymore anymore. We were going home, no matter how many of those stupid fucking points we had. Home. We hadn't seen _home _in almost three years, and I was itching to get out of this country. I'd seen enough of Europe to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. I looked over at Rita who was chattering away to Buck, gesticulating wildly and laughing at whatever his response was, tugging her hair out of the ponytail and letting it fall down her back. Even though she'd had plenty of time to rest up at her granddads, she looked beyond exhausted; the bags under her eyes almost black, and her pale skin was almost grey, no colour in her face at all, although she was wearing some makeup to try and disguise her lack of sleep. She'd been picking at her hands again, too, the fingernail scrapes glaringly obvious, but right now she looked happy, and that was good enough for me. I felt Webster nudge me and tore my gaze away from Rita. He handed me a small jewellers box with a ring inside, quite a large diamond sitting on top.  
"Webster, you're great and all but I don't swing that way." I said, pushing the box back. He exhaled heavily in exasperation and threw the box at me.  
"Its not from me to you in that way you asshole. It's for you to give to Rita."  
"What?!" I asked, incredulous.  
"You said that you wanted to marry her, remember? We were talking about what we were gonna do when the war was over and you said you were gonna take her back to the states, marry her then have a family!" he insisted. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.  
"No, idiot, I said that I was gonna find a nice Jewish girl. Not THAT nice Jewish girl, _A_ nice Jewish girl. I also said one with big tits. Where did you find this anyways?"  
"Who are you trying to kid, Joe? Web asked, looking disdainfully at me. "We all know that, firstly, Rita has some pretty impressive tits, secondly, that you both have more than a crush on each other and finally that if you go back to the states without her, you're gonna be miserable. You know what you were like the two months when she wasn't moving out with us, imagine that but for the rest of your life. Where I found it is also none of your business."  
"Shut up, Web, you don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about." I scowled, slipping the ring into my pocket and ignoring his smug 'I-knew-it' face. "She kicked me in the nuts."  
"You deserved it." He snorted, trying to hold in a laugh. "You were a massive prick to her right before she left and you als-"  
"Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get some goddamn sympathy around here?!"

** XXX**

Some of the Austrians had thrown together a celebratory dance for us in an old town hall. So there we all were, dressed to the nines in the full paratroopers uniforms, caps and all. The hall was packed, not really big enough for a shit-tonne of paratroopers and almost all of the civilians. There was plenty of women to go around though, and I could see each of the men had their eye on at least one of them. I was still waiting for Rita. An old woman who's daughter had died of pneumonia the year before had ushered her into her house, telling Webster that she'd get her all dressed up. That had been almost four hours ago and I was starting to get a little anxious, slightly sweaty hands fidgeting with the ring box in my pocket. Suddenly I heard a soft "Woah..." from Webster behind me and I looked over my shoulder to see what he was gawping at. I joined in gawping.  
"Is that _Rita_?" Floyd asked as she ascended the stairs, smiling nervously at the townspeople as she walked towards us. She was wearing a tight-fitting magenta dress that flared out slightly at her waist and fell to just below her knees. She was wearing a pair of stockings and a pair of black high-heeled shoes which brought her at least two inches taller. The old woman had gently pulled two sections of hair at the front of her face back and let the rest of it fall in a waterfall down her back, the curls tamed slightly. To complete the transformation, she was wearing a little bit of eyeliner and bright red lipstick, and she barely looked like herself. She looked like a film star.  
"Why's everybody staring at me?" She hissed as she reached the group, tugging at her dress. I batted her hand away and as the band started to play I led her onto the make-shift dance floor.  
"You don't look like yourself, that's why."  
"In a good way or in a bad way?"  
"In a good way, Rita. In a good way." I laughed as she breathed a slight sigh of relief. I hadn't danced like this in a long time and it was sort of nice to do it again, although most of the time dancing was spent mustering up the courage to ask Rita one of the most daunting questions in the history of...well. Daunting questions. After at least an hour of dancing, Rita pulled away, laughing.  
"Im about to die of thirst" she giggled breathlessly, fanning herself. She turned to walk to the bar and I motioned for the band to stop playing. I took a deep breath.  
"Rita." I said, my voice amplified by my nerves. She whirled back around, face glowing, hair slightly wild, eyebrows knotted slightly in confusion.  
"Joe, what's going on?" she asked, "Is everything okay?"  
"Rita, I know that we haven't known each other very long," I began, taking a step towards her. "but I feel as if I have known you my whole life, and if I don't ask you this now, I'll chicken out and never do it." I took another step forwards and got down on one knee, taking the ring box out of my pocket and opening it "Rita... Will you marry me?" I couldn't keep the grin off of my face as a hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears and I could see the smile behind her hand as she vigorously nodded her head. The entire room cheered as I jumped to my feet and stuck the ring on her finger, and the cheers turned to wolf whistles from the men as she grabbed me by the shirt front and pulled me into a kiss. Things were finally looking up, and I couldn't help but kiss her back twice as hard.  
"Get a room!" came a call from the other side of the room and we broke apart grinning sheepishly at each other. Yeah. Things were _definitely _looking up.

**AN: Im so happy with this chapter! I'm also pleased because the next chapter will be the last and I'll have kept to my 15 chapter limit. Im also pleased because Joe isn't being a total twat in this chapter, infact he's being very lovely. Well, to Rita anyways. This is Rita's dress here:** ** /ella-dress-magenta** ** and this was her hairstyle: **

**I don't really have a lot more to say apart from thank you for reading and please leave a review with any AU ideas for Joe and Rita, or send a PM. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll update as soon as I can. Thank you! **


	15. Chapter 15

**(Please read the AN at the bottom! :) )**

**[Joe's POV]**

_**Fourteen years later**_

"Rita, I cant remember how to tie my tie!" I hollered as I thundered down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the toy cars and teddies that permanently littered them. We were off to a friends wedding and, as usual, we were running behind schedule.  
"Get in line, Buster!" she shouted back. I skidded into the living room and laughed a little as I saw a line of Liebgotts in front of her chair, shuffling their feet and complaining as she tied a tiny little tie around each of their necks. She was five months pregnant with our fifth child, the bump somewhat masked by the loose dress. Scowling, Joseph Liebgott Junior scuffed his shoes as I walked in and mumbled his "hello daddy" mutinously.  
"Daddy, _why_ do we have to wear these stupid ties?" he whinged, eyeing the fabric around his neck with apprehension.  
"Dont call things stupid, Joey." Rita gently chided, carefully knotting the tie. "You can take it off after the bride and groom cut the cake. Daddy'll probably take his off then too."  
"Will Janey be wearing a tie?" he asked, still not appeased.  
"No, but Janey's gonna be wearing a dress." I smirked. "I'll do you a deal. We'll put Janey in your shirt and tie and we'll stick you in her dress, how about that?"  
"That sounds like a great idea, Daddy!" Rita winked at me, pretending to take off Juniors tie and shirt.  
"Nononononono I'll wear it!" Laughing, Rita pretend shoved him out of the line and carefully pulled James forward.  
"Are you ok with a tie, little man?" she asked, beginning to knot his. James was the youngest of the four, and was definitely the quietest, a trait he didn't get from either Rita or me. He nodded, gnawing on his fingers. He resembled Rita the most though, with her green eyes and pale face, not to mention his sass sometimes. The five others had a clear mixture; most had my nose and eyes but they had her hair.  
"All done" She smiled, giving James a quick kiss on the cheek. He quickly ran to me and jumped up for a hug, burying his face into my neck. "Right, two down, three to go! Joe, have you seen Jane anywhere?"  
"Not since this morning. D'ya want me to go look for her?" I asked throwing James onto my shoulders.  
"Nah, she'll be in her room or something. Reminds me of you, never where you need her to be" She laughed, sticking her tongue out at me. "Right, you!" She pretend glared at Jack, our oldest at eight years old, and pulled him forward by the tie. He squealed and laughed, batting her hands away as she tickled him under the chin. He stood bolt upright, hair combed to the side and hilariously proud of his attire.  
"I cant wait to get married!" he said to me over his shoulder, bouncing with excitement. "I'll be wearing a suit like yours, daddy, and I'll make sure the bride looks really really pretty and she'll have lots and lots of flowers and we'll live in a big house like this one and look after each other the way you and mommy do because we'll be in love forever. You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget that a lot, especially grownups." Rita and I looked at each other in surprise.  
"What makes you say that, jack? You got a special lady in class?" I teased. He rolled his eyes at me.  
"You should know better than anybody else that love is the most bestest thing in the world, Daddy. But hotdogs are pretty good too I suppose." He ran out of the room to put his shoes on and I smiled fondly at him, setting down a squirming James who bolted out after his big brother. What he had just said was Rita through and through. She got to her feet and walked over to me, pulling me by the tie into a kiss.  
"Right Liebgott number six, let's get this tie on you so we can go." I studied her face as she knotted the tie, noting the slight wrinkles around her eyes. Laughter lines. There was still a faint scar stretching down the right side of her face, just as there was still the scar on my neck. I reached out and cupped my hand under her chin, running my thumb down the thin red line. She looked up from tying the tie and met my gaze, smiling.  
"Since when did he get so knowledgeable about love? He's eight, not eighty." She stated, pulling the tie up to my collar and smoothing out my jacket.  
"Yeah, remember in school when Jack wrote that love is when two people literally go through hell and still stay together?" I laughed.  
"He's so young Joe, maybe we shouldn't have told him about how we met. I don't think he really understands what war really means."  
"Hey," I murmured, pulling her into a careful hug "All of our kids are gonna have to grow up at somepoint, and they're all gonna ask questions. I don't want to hide this from them, they need to know." I kissed her on the forehead and she smiled a little at me, reaching up for a proper kiss.  
"I suppose so. We should get Jane and head, we're gonna be late."  
Rita hollered Jane's name from the door and she came flying into the room in her pajamas, her hair a mess and her face covered in dirt.  
"Jane, what've you done with your dress?!" Rita exclaimed, ushering her back upstairs to change her.  
"I took it off so it wouldn't get all mucky!" Jane replied indignantly. I rolled my eyes and shouted for all the boys to get their butts into the car so that we'd be ready just to go when Rita had gotten Jane straightened out.  
"Daddy..."James said as he stumbled down the stairs. "Joe says he _cant_ get his buttom in the car!" I narrowed my eyes a little.  
"Oh really? And why does he say that?"  
"He's stuck in the towel rack."

**AN: And that's the end of the story! I'm a little sad that it's over but I'm also kind of glad that I can get a wee break. In case you were wondering why all of Joe and Rita's kids had a "J" name I read in a website that he named on child after himself and the rest with that initial. ( wiki/T-5._Joseph_Liebgott) I'd like to say thank you to ****drovingallday96**** for your lovely reviews and AU suggestion! I've done a wee bit of research on trauma nursing and the gulf war and I'll get onto writing that as soon as possible. I don't know yet whether or not it'll be a oneshot or a multiple chapter story, it depends on how confident I feel when I write it, but I'm so excited to get started! **

_**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR AN AU WITH JOE AND RITA PM ME OR LEAVE A SUGGESTION IN THE COMMENTS**_**! Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me, and thank you for all the encouraging reviews, they've been so nice and I'm lucky to have such wonderful readers. I'm sending you all massive hugs and cookies and just thank you all again! **


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